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n 



THE 



AGE OF CHIVALEY 



LEGENDS OF KING ARTHUE 



KING ARTHUR AND HIS KNIGHTS" "THE MABINOGEON' 
"THE CRUSADES" "ROBIN HOOD" ETC. 

THOMAS "bULFINCH 



A NEW ENLARGED AND REVISED EDITION 
EDITED BY E. E. HALE 



Throngs of knights and barons bold, 
In weeds of peace high triumphs hold. 
With store of ladies, whose bright eyes 
Raini influence and judge the prize. 

Milton. 



JAN 18 18871 



BOSTON 
S. W. TILTON & CO. PUBLISHERS 

BOSTON DE WOLFE, PISKE & CO. NEW YORK C. T. DILLINGHAM 



1 



Entered, according to Act of Congress, in tlie year 1858, by 

THOMAS BULFINCH, 

In the Clerk's OflBce of tlie District Court of the District of Massachusetts. 



Entered, according to Act of Congress, in the year 1884, by 

S. W. TILTON, 

In the Office of the Librarian of Congress, at Washington. 



C. .T, PETERS AND SON, 

ELECTROTYPERS AND STEREOTYPERS, 

145 HioH Street. 



PREFACE. 



IN a former work the compiler of this volume endeavored to 
impart the pleasures of classical learning to the English 
reader, by presenting the stories of Pagan mythology in 
a form adapted to modern taste. In the present volume the 
attempt has been made to treat in the same way the stories 
of the second " age of fable," the age which witnessed the 
dawn of the several states of Modern Europe. 

It is believed that this presentation of a literature which held 
unrivalled sway over the imaginations of our ancestors, for many 
centuries, will not be without benefit to the reader, in addition 
to the amusement it may afford. The tales, though not to be 
trusted for their facts, are worthy of all credit as pictures of 
manners ; and it is beginning to be held that the manners and 
modes of thinking of an age are a more important part of its 
history than the conflicts of its peoples, generally leading to 
no result. Besides this, the literature of romance is a treasure- 
house of poetical material, to which modern poets frequently 
resort. The Italian poets, Dante and Ariosto, the English, 
Spenser, Scott, and Tennyson, and our own Longfellow and 
Lowell, are examples of this. 

These legends are so connected with each other, so consist- 
ently adapted to a group of characters strongly individualized 
in Arthur, Launcelot, and their compeers, and so lighted up by 
the fires of imagination and invention, that they seem as well 
adapted to the poet's purpose as the legends of the Greek and 
Roman mythology. And if every well-educated young person 
is expected to know the story of the Golden Fleece, why is the 

5 



b PREFACE. 

quest of the Sangreal less worthy of his acquaintance ? Or if 
an allusion to the shield of Achilles ought not to pass unap- 
prehended, why should one to Escalibar, the famous sword of 
Arthur : — 

" Of Arthur, who, to upper light restored, 
With that ten-ific sword, 
Which yet he brandishes for future war, 
Shall lift his country's fame above the polar star r "* 

It is an additional recommendation of our subject, that it 
tends to cherish in our minds the idea of the source from which 
we sprung. We are entitled to our full share in the glories 
and recollections of the land of our forefathers, down to the 
time of colonization thence. The associations which spring 
from this source must be fruitful of good influences ; among 
which not the least valuable is the increased enjoyment which 
such associations afford to the American traveller when he 
visits England, and sets his foot upon any of her renowned 
localities. 

The readers of Tennyson are invited to peruse in these 
legends the originals of those stories which the poet has clothed 
in the drapery of verse, and given to the public in his " Idylls 
of the King," and in shorter poems. Perhaps some of them 
may be found more intelligible for our plain narrative of the 

same events. 

Thomas Bulfinch. 
Boston, 1858. 



The late Mr. Bulfinch thus explained the work he had in 
hand when the first edition of this book was published, in the 
year 1858. So much attention has been given in England and 
America since that time to the legends of which he speaks that 
such an apology as he makes for his admirable versions of 
them now seems quite unnecessary. The popularity which Mr. 
Bulfinch's versions of the "Stories of the Round Table" at 
once attained has demanded several repeated editions of his 
book. 

* Wordsworth. 



PREFACE. 7 

In this edition the book has been materially enlarged in one 
or two directions. Since Mr. Bulfinch wrote, Mr. Tennyson, 
who has drawn so largely on these legends, has published seve- 
ral additional " Idylls of the King," from which I have added 
some illustrations. I have also taken advantage of the greater 
space to retain the original language of Sir Thomas Mallory 
in many of the stories where Mr. Bulfinch thought it neces- 
sary to abridge, and I have inserted one or two new stories 
from the " Mabinogeon." And lastly, I have added several 
new chapters, with a view of showing what the Age of Chiv- 
alry was in English history as a means of illustration of the 
tales of the Knights of King Arthur's time. For this j^urpose I 
have drawn upon Froissart and any other ancient chroniclers 
whose narratives seemed to suit my purpose, as well as upon 
Bishop Percy's collection of old English ballads and Ritson's 
ballads on Robin Hood. I have hoped that young readers 
who see the freshness and spirit of Froissart and the others 
may thus be induced to study history in the originals rather 
than be satisfied with the limping compilations and abridg- 
ments of modern writers. 

Edward E. Hale. 

Boston, August 9, 1883. 



i 



f 



1 



f^. 



C N T E N T S. 



Part E 

KING ARTHUR AND HIS KNIGHTS. 

Chapter Page 

^ I. Introduction 13 

-^I, The Mythical History of England 27 

-^III. Arthur 38 

IV. Caradoc Briefbras 63 

V. Sir Gawain 70 

VI. Launcelot of the Lake 74 

VII. The Story of Launcelot : The Adventure of the Cart . 86 

VIII. The Story of Launcelot: The Lady of Shalott . . 95 

IX. The Story of Launcelot : Queen Guenever's Peril . 101 

X. The Story of Tristram of Lyonesse 106 

'jT^Xl. Tristram and Isoude 115 

'XII. The Story of Tristram 123 

XIII. The End of the Story of Tristram 131 

XIV. The Story op Perceval 139 

» XV. The Quest of the Sangreal .148 

XVI. The End of the Quest 160 

XVII. Sir Agrivain's Treason 174 

XVIII. MoRTE D 'Arthur 182 



Part W, 

THE MABINOGEON. 

XIX. The Britons 195 

XX. The Lady of the Fountain 200 

XXI. The Lady of the Fountain {continued) . . . . . 206 

XXII. The Lady of the Fountain {continued) 214 

9 



10 



CONTENTS. 



Chapter Page 

^XXIII. Geraint, the Son of Erbin . . . . . ,222 

- XXIV. Geraint, the Son of Erbin {continued) .... 233 

XXV. Geraint, the Son of Erbin {continued) . . . .241 

XXVI. PwYLL, Prince of Dyved 252 

XXVII. Bran^ven, the Daughter of Llyr, 259 

XXVIII. Manawyddan 268 

XXIX. KiLWiCH AND Olwen 279 

XXX. KiLWiCH AND Olwen {continued) 291 

XXXI. Peredur, the Son of Evrawc ...... 298 

XXXII. TALIE8IN 308 



Part 3ie. 

THE KNIGHTS OF ENGLISH HISTORY. 



XXXIII. King Richard and the Third Crusade .... 319 

.^ XXXIV. Robin Hood of Sherwood Forest 343 

XXXV. Robin Hood and his Adventures 353 

XXXVI. Chevy Chase 362 

XXXVII. The Battle of Otterbourne 370 

XXXVIII. Edward the Black Prince . . . . . . .380 



MRS. JOSEPH COOLIDGE. 



Dear Madam,— 

To you, who have sympathized in my tastes, and encouraged 
my researches, I dedicate this attempt to depict the age of chivalry, 
and to revive the legends of the land of our fathers. 

Your friend and cousin, 

T. B. 



THE AGE OF CHIVALRY. 



PAET I 
KING ARTHUR AND HIS KNIGHTS, 




KING ARTHUR AND HIS OIGHTS. 



CHAPTER I. 



INTRODUCTION. 



ON the decline of the Roman power, about five centuries \r 
after Christ, the countries of Northern Europe were left 
almost destitute of a national government. Numerous chiefs, 
more or less powerful, held local sway, as far as each could 
enforce his dominion, and occasionally those chiefs would unite 
for a common object ; but, in ordinary times, they were much 
more likely to be found in hostility to one another. In such 
a state of things, the rights of the humbler classes of society 
were at the mercy of every assailant ; and it is plain that, 
without some check upon the lawless power of the chiefs, 
society must have relapsed into barbarism. Such checks were 
found, first, in the rivalry of the chiefs themselves, whose mu- 
tual jealousy made them restraints upon one another ; secondly, 
in the influence of the Church, which, by every motive, pure 

13 



14 KING AKTHUK AND HIS KNIGHTS. 

or selfish, was pledged to interpose for the protection of the 
weak ; and lastly, in the generosity and sense of right which, 
however crushed under the weight of passion and selfishness, 
dwell naturally in the heart of man. From this last source 
sprang Chivalry, which framed an ideal of the heroic character, 
combining invincible strength and valor, justice, modesty, 
loyalty to superiors, courtesy to equals, compassion to weakness, 
and devotedness to the Church ; an ideal which, if never met 
with in real life, was acknowledged by all as the highest model 
for emulation. 

The word Chivalry is derived from the French cheval^ a horse. 
The word knight^ which originally meant boy or servant, was 
particularly applied to a young man after he was admitted to 
the privilege of bearing arms. This privilege was conferred on 
youths of family and fortune only, for the mass of the people 
were not furnished with arms. The knight then was a mounted 
warrior, a man of rank, or in the service and maintenance of 
some man of rank, generally possessing some independent means 
of support, but often relying mainly on the gratitude of those 
whom he served for the supply of his wants, and often, no 
doubt, resorting to the means which power confers on its 
possessor. 

In time of war the knight was, with his followers, in tlie 
camp of his sovereign, or commanding in the field, or holding 
some castle for him. In time of peace he was often in attend- 
ance at his sovereign's court, gracing with his presence the 
banquets and tournaments with which j^rinces cheered their 
leisure. Or he was traversing the country in quest of adventure, 
professedly bent on redressing wrongs and enforcing rights, 
sometimes in fulfilment of some vow of religion or of love. 
These wandering knights were called knights-errant ; they were 
welcome guests in the castles of the nobility, for their presence 
enlivened the dulness of those secluded abodes, and they were 
received with honor at the abbeys, which often owed the best 
part of their revenues to the patronage of the knights ; but if 
no castle or abbey or hermitage were at hand, their hardy habits 
made it not intolerable to them to lie down, supperless, at the 
foot of some wayside cross, and pass the night. 



INTEODUCTION. 15 

It is evident that the justice administered by siicli an instru- 
mentaUty must have been of the rudest descrijjtion. The force 
whose legitimate purpose was to redress wrongs, might easily 
be perverted to inflict them. Accordingly, we find in the 
romances, which, however fabulous in facts, are true as pic- 
tures of manners, that a knightly castle was often a terror to the 
surrounding country ; that its dungeons were full of oppressed 
knights and ladies, waiting for some champion to appear to set 
them free, or to be ransomed with money ; that hosts of idle 
retainers w^ere ever at hand to enforce their lord's behests, 
regardless of law and justice; and that the rights of the un- 
armed multitude were of no account. This contrariety of fact 
and theory in regard to chivalry will account for the opposite 
impressions which exist in men's minds respecting it. While 
it has been the theme of the most fervid eulogium on the one 
part, it has been as eagerly denounced on the other. On a cool 
estimate, we cannot but see reason to congratulate ourselves 
that it has given way in modern times to the reign of law, and 
that the civil magistrate, if less picturesque, has taken the place 
of the mailed chamj^ion. 

The Teaixixg of a Kxight. 

The preparatory education of candidates for knighthood was 
long and arduous. At seven years of age the noble children 
were usually removed from their father's house to the court or 
castle of their future patron, and placed under the care of a 
governor, who taught them the first articles of religion, and 
respect and reverence for their lords and superiors, and initiated, 
them in the ceremonies of a court. They were called ^x^^^s, 
valets or varlets^ and their office was to carve, to wait at table, 
and to perform otlier menial services, which were not then 
considered humiliating. In their leisure hours tliey learned to 
dance and play on the harp, were instructed in the mysteries 
of looods and rivers, that is, in hunting, falconry, and fishing, 
and in wrestling, tilting Avith spears, and performing other 
military exercises on horseback. At fourteen the page became 
an esquire, and began a course of severer and more laborious 



16 KING AKTHUR AND HIS KNIGHTS. 

exercises. To vault on a horse in heavy armor ; to run, to scale 
walls, and sj^ring over ditches, under the same encumbrance; 
to wrestle, to wield the battle-axe for a length of time, without 
raising the visor or taking breath ; to perform with grace all 
the evolutions of horsemanship, — were necessary preliminaries 
to the reception of knighthood, which was usually conferred at 
twenty-one years of age, when the young man's education was 
supposed to be comj^leted. In the mean time, the esquires 
were no less assiduously engaged in acquiring all those refine- 
ments of civility wdiich formed what w^as in that age called 
courtesy. The same castle in which they received their educa- 
tion was usually thronged with young persons of the other sex, 
and the page Avas encouraged, at a very early age, to select 
some lady of the court as the mistress of his heart, to whom 
he was taught to refer all liis sentiments, words, and actions. 
The service of his mistress was the glory and occupation of a 
knight, and her smiles, bestowed at once by affection and grati- 
tude, were held out as the recompense of his well-directed 
valor. Keligion united its influence with those of loyalty and 
love, and the order of knighthood, endowed with all the sanc- 
tity and religious awe that attended the priesthood, became an 
object of ambition to the greatest sovereigns.^ 

The ceremonies of initiation were peculiarly solemn. After 
undergoing a severe fast, and spending whole nights in ])rayer, 
the candidate confcvssed, and received the sacrament. He then 
clothed himself in snow-white garments, and repaired to the 
church, or the hall, where the ceremony was to take place, 
bearing a knightly sword suspended from liis neck, which the 
officiating priest took and blessed, and then returned to him. 
The candidate then, with folded arms, knelt before the presiding 
knight, Avho, after some questions about his motives and purposes 
in requesting admission, administered to him the oaths, and 
granted his request. Some of the knights present, sometimes 
even ladies and damsels, handed to him in succession the spurs, 
the coat of mail, the hauberk, the armlet and gauntlet,- and 
lastly he girded on the sword. He then knelt again before the 
president, who, rising from his seat, gave liim the "accolade," 
which consisted of three strokes, with the flat of a sword, on 



INTRODUCTION. 17 

the shoulder or neck of the candidate, accompanied by the 
words : "In tlie name of God, of St. Michael, and St. George, 
I make thee a knight ; be valiant, courteous, and loyal ! " Then 
he received his helmet, his shield, and spear ; and thus the 
investiture ended. 

Feeemen, Villains, Serfs, and Cleeks. 

The other classes of which society was composed were, first, 
freemen^ owners of small portions of land, independent, though 
they sometimes voluntarily became the vassals of their more 
opulent neighbors, whose power was necessary for their protec- 
tion. The other two classes, which were much the most 
numerous, were either serfs or villains, both of which were 
slaves. 

The serfs were in the lowest state of slavery. All the fruits 
of their labor belonged to the master whose land they tilled, 
'and by whom they were fed and clothed. 

The villains were less degraded. Tlieir situation seems to 
have resembled that of the Russian peasants at this day. Like 
the serfs, they were attached to the soil, and were transferred 
witli it by purchase ; biit they paid only a fixed rent to the 
landlord, and had a right to dispose of any surplus that might 
arise from their industr3^ 

•The term derh was of very extensive import. It compre- 
hended, originally, such persons only as belonged to the clergy, 
or clerical order, among whom, however, might be found a 
multitude of married persons, artisans or others. But in^ 
process of time a much wider rule was established ; every one 
that could read being accounted a clerTx, or dericus^ and allowed 
the "benefit of clergy," that is, exemption from capital and 
some other forms of punishment, in case of crime. 

"^duenaments. 

The spleudi : .f a tournament between knights, its 

gaudy accesso] ppings, and its chivalrous regulations, 

originated in Tournaments were repeatedly con- 



18 KING ARTHUR AND HIS KNIGHTS. 

demned by the Church, probably on account of the quarrels 
they led to, and the often fatal results. The " joust," or " just," 
was different from the tournament. In these, knights fought 
with their lances, and their object was to unhorse their antago- 
nists ; while the tournaments were intended for a display of 
skill and address in evolutions, and with various weapons, and 
greater courtesy Avas observed in the regulations. By these it 
was forbidden to wound the horse, or to use the j^oint of the 
sword, or to strike a knight after he had raised his visor, or 
unlaced his helmet. The ladies encouraged their knights 
in these exercises ; they bestowed prizes, and the conqueror's 
feats were the theme of romance and song. The stands over- 
looking the ground, or course, were varied in the shapes of 
towers, terraces, galleries, and j^ensile gardens, magnificently 
decorated with tapestry, pavilions, and banners. Every 
combatant proclaimed the name of the lady whose servant 
cVamour he was. He was wont to look up to the stand, and 
strengthen his courage by the sight of the bright eyes that were 
raining their influence on him from above. The knights also 
carried favors^ consisting of scarfs, veils, sleeves, bracelets, 
clasjDS, — in short, some piece of female habiliment, — attached 
to their helmets, shields, or armor. If, during the combat, any 
of these appendages were dropped or lost, the fair donor would 
at times send her knight new ones, especially if pleased with 
his exertions. 

Mail Armor. 

Mail armor, of which the hauberk is a species, and whicli 
derived its name from maille^ a French word for mesJi^ was of 
two kinds, ^9^«?e or scale mail, and chain mail. It was originally 
used for the protection of the body only, reaching no lower 
than the knees. It was shaped like a carter's frock, and bound 
round the waist by a girdle. Gloves and hose of mail were 
afterwards added, and a liood, whicli, when necessary, wns 
drawn over the head, leaving the face alone uncovered. To 
protect the skin from tlie impression of the iron network of 
the chain mail, a quilted lining was employed, which, howevei-, 



INTRODUCTION. 19 

was insufficient, and the bath was used to efface the marks of 
the armor. 

The hauberk was a complete covering of double chain mail. 
Some hauberks opened before, like a modern coat ; others were 
closed like a shirt. 

The chain mail of which they w^ere composed was formed by 
a number of iron links, each link having others inserted into it, 
the whole exhibiting a kind of network, of which (in some 
instances at least) the meshes were circular, with each link 
separately riveted. 

The hauberk was proof against the most violent blow of a 
sword ; but the point of a lance might pass through the meshes, 
or drive the iron into the flesh. To guard against this, a thick 
and well-stuffed doublet was worn underneath, under which 
was commonly added an iron breastplate. Hence the expres- 
sion "to pierce both plate and mail," so common in the earlier 
poets. 

Mail armor continued in general use till about the year 1300, 
when it was gradually supplanted by plate armor, or suits 
consisting of pieces or plates of solid iron, adapted to the 
different parts of the body. 

Shields were generally made of wood, covered with leather, 
or some similar substance. To secure them, in some sort, from 
being cut through by the sword, they were surrounded with a 
hoop of metal. 

Helmets. 

The helmet was composed of two parts ; the headpiece^ which 
was strengthened within by several circles of iron ; and the 
visor ^ which, as the name implies, was a sort of grating to see 
through, so contrived as, by sliding in a groove, or turning on a 
pivot, to be raised or lowered at pleasure. Some helmets had 
a further improvement called a hever^ from the Italian hevere^ 
to drink. The ventayle^ or " air-passage," is another name for 
this. 

To secure the helmet from the possibility of falling, or of 
being struck off, it was tied by several laces to the meshes of 



20 KING ARTHUR AND HIS KNIGHTS. 

the hauberk; consequently, when a knight was overthrown, it 
was necessary to undo these laces before he could be put to 
death; though this was sometimes effected by lifting up the 
skirt of the hauberk, and stabbing him in the belly. The 
instrument of death was a small dagger, worn on the right 
side. 

Romances. 

In ages when there were no books, when noblemen and 
princes themselves could not read, history or tradition was 
monopolized by the story-tellers. They inherited, generation 
after generation, the wondrous tales of their j^redecessors, which 
they retailed to the public with such additions of their own as 
their acquired information supplied them with. Anachronisms 
became of course very common, and errors of geography, of 
locality, of manners, equally so. Spurious genealogies were 
invented, in which- Arthur and his knights, and Charlemagne 
and his paladins, were made to derive their descent from 
^neas, Hector, or some other of the Trojan heroes. 

With regard to the derivation of the w^ord Homance, we 
trace it to the fact that the dialects which were formed in 
Western Europe, from the admixture of Latin with the native 
languages, took the name of Langue Homaine. The French 
language was divided into two dialects. The river Loire was 
their common boundary. In the provinces to the south of that 
river the affirmative, yes^ was expressed by the word oc ; in 
the north it was called oil {oid) ; and hence Dante has named 
the southern language langue <Poc^ and the northern langue 
cVoil. The latter, which was carried into England by the ISJ'or- 
mans, and is the origin of the present French, may be called 
the French Romane ; and the former the Provenyal, or Pro- 
vencial Romane, because it was spoken by the people of Pro- 
vence and Languedoc, southern provinces of France. 

These dialects were soon distinguished by very opposite 
characters. A soft and enervating climate, a spirit of com- 
merce encouraged by an easy communication with other mari- 
time nations, the influx of wealth, and a more settled govern- 
ment, may have tended to polish and soften the diction of tlie 



INTRODUCTIOX. 21 

Provencials, Avhose poets, under the name of Troubadours, 
were the masters of the Italians, and particularly of Petrarch. 
Their favorite pieces were Sirventes (satirical pieces), love- 
songs, and Tensons^ which last were a sort of dialogue in verse 
between two poets, who questioned each other on some refined 
points of love's casuistry. It seems the Provencials were so 
completely absorbed in these delicate questions as to neglect 
and despise the composition of fabulous histories of adventure 
and knighthood, which they left in a great measure to tlie 
poets of the northern part of the kingdom, called Trouveurs. 

At a time when chivalry excited universal admiration, and 
when all the efforts of that chivalry were directed against the 
_ enemies of religion, it was natural tliat literature should re- 
ceive the same impulse, and that history and fable should be 
ransacked to furnish examples of courage and piety that might 
excite increased emulation. Arthur and Charlemagne were 
the two heroes selected for this purpose. Arthur's pretensions 
were that he was a brave, though not always a successful war- 
rior; he had withstood with great resolution the arms of the 
infidels, that is to say of the Saxons, and his memory was held 
in tlie highest estimation by his countrymen, the Britons, who 
carried witli them into Wales, and into the kindred country of 
Armorica, or Brittany, the memory of his exploits, which their 
national vanity insensibly exaggerated, till the little prince of 
the Silures (South AYales) was magnified into the conqueror of 
England, of Gaul, and of the greater part of Europe. His 
genealogy was gradually carried up to an imaginary Brutus, 
and to the period of the Trojan war, and a sort of chronicle 
was composed in the Welsh, or Armorican language, which, un- 
der the pompous title of the History of the Kings of Britain, 
was translated into Latin by Geoffrey of Monmouth, about the 
year 1150. The Welsh critics consider the material of the 
work to have been an older history, written by St. Talian, 
Bishop of St. Asaph, in the seventh century. 

As to Charlemagne, though his real merits were sufficient to 
secure his immortality, it was impossible that his holy icars 
against the Saracens should not become a favorite topic for 
fiction. Accordingly, the fabulous history of these wars was 



22 KIXG ARTHUR AXD HIS KXIGHTS. 

written, probably towards the close of the eleventh century, by 
a monk, who, thinking it would add dignity to his work to em- 
bellish it with a contemporary name, boldly ascribed it to Tur- 
pin, who was Archbishop of Rheims about the year 773. 

These fabulous chronicles were for a while imprisoned in 
languages of local only or of professional access. Both Tur- 
pin and Geoffrey might indeed be read by ecclesiastics, the 
sole Latin scholars of those times, and Geoffrey's British origi- 
nal would contribute to the gratification of Welshmen ; but 
neither could become extensively popular till translated into 
some language of general and familiar use. The Anglo-Saxon 
was at that time used only by a conquered and enslaved na- 
tion; the Spanish and Italian languages were not yet formed; 
the Xorman French alone was spoken and understood by the 
nobility in the greater part of Europe, and therefore was a 
proper vehicle for the new mode of composition. 

That language was fashionable in England before the Con- 
quest, and became, after that event, the only language used at 
the court of London. As the various conquests of the Xor- 
mans, and the enthusiastic valor of that extraordinary people, 
had familiarized the minds of men with the most marvellous 
events, their poets eagerly seized the fabulous legends of Ar- 
thur and Charlemagne, translated them into the language of 
the day, and soon produced a variety of imitations. The ad- 
ventures attributed to these monarchs, and to their distin- 
guished warriors, together with those of many other tradition- 
ary or imaginary heroes, composed by degrees that formidable 
body of marvellous histories which, from the dialect in Avhich 
the most ancient of them were written, were called Romances. 



Metrical Romaxces. 

The earliest form in which romances appear is that of a rude 
kind of verse. In this form it is supposed they were sung or 
recited at the feasts of princes and knights in their baronial 
halls. The following specimen of the language and style of 
Robert de Beauvais, who flourished in 1257, is from Sir Walter 
Scott's Introduction to the'Romance of Sir Tristrem. : 



INTRODUCTION. 23 

" Ne voil pas emmi dire, 
Ici diverse la matyere, 
Entre ceus qui solent cunter, 
E de la cunte Tristran parler." 

" I will not say too much about it, 
So diverse is the matter, 
Among those Avho are in the habit of telling 
And relating the story of Tristran." 

This is a specimen of the language which was in use among 
tlie nobility of England in the ages immediately after the Nor- 
man conquest. The following is a specimen of the English that 
existed at the same time among the common people. Robert de 
Brunne, speaking of his Latin and French authorities, says : — 

'* Als thai haf wry ten and sayd 
Haf I alle in niyn Ingiis layd, 
In symple speeche as I couthe, 
That is lightest in manne's mouthe. 
Alle for the luf of symple men, 
That strange Inglis cannot ken." 

The " strange Inglis " being the language of the previous 
specimen. 

It was not till toward the end of the thirteenth century that 
the prose romances began to appear. These works generally 
began with disowning and discrediting the sources from which 
in reality they drew their sole information. As every romance 
was supposed to be a real history, the compilers of those in 
prose would have forfeited all credit if they had announced 
themselves as mere copyists of the minstrels. On the contrary, 
they usually state that, as the popular poems upon the matter in 
question contain many '• lesings," they had been induced to 
translate the real and true history of such or such a knight from 
the original Latin or Greek, or from the ancient British of 
Arinorican authorities, which authorities existed only in their 
own assertion. 

A specimen of the style of the prose romance may be found 
in the following extract from one of the most celebrated and 
latest of them, the Morte d'Arthur of Sir Thomas Mallory, of 
the date of 1485. From this work much of the contents of this 



24 . KING ARTHUR AND HIS KNIGHTS. 

volume has been drawn, with as close an adherence to the origi- 
nal style as was thought consistent with our plan of adapting 
our narrative to the taste of modern readers. 

" It is notoyrly knowen thorugli the vnyuersal world that 
there been ix worthy and the best that ever were. That is to 
wete thre paynyms, three Jewes, and three crysten men. As 
for the paynyms, they were tofore the Incarnacyon of Cryst 
whiche were named, the fyrst Hector of Troye ; the second 
Alysaunder the grete, and the thyrd Julyus Cezar, Emperour 
of Rome, of whome thystoryes ben w^ell kno and had. And as 
for the thre Jewes whyche also were tofore thyncarnacyon of 
our Lord, of whome the fyrst was Duo Josue, whyche brought 
the chyldren of Israhel into the londe of beheste; the second 
Dauyd, kyng of Jherusalem, and the thyrd Judas Machabeus ; 
of these thre the byble reherceth al theyr noble hystoryes and 
actes. And sythe the sayd Incarnacyon haue ben the noble 
crysten men stalled and admytted thorugh the vnyuersal world 
to the nombre of the ix beste and worthy, of whome was fyrst 
the noble Arthur, whose noble actes I purpose to wr}i:e in this 
present book here folowyng. Tlie second was Charlemayn, or 
Cliarles the grete, of whome thystorye is had in many pLaces 
both in frensshe and englysshe, and the thyrd and last was 
Godefray of boloyn." 

The Mabinogeon. 

It has been well known to the literati and antiquarians of 
Europe, that there exist in the great public libraries voluminous 
manuscripts of romances and tales once popular, but which on 
the invention of printing had already become antiquated and 
fallen into neglect. They were therefore never printed, and 
seldom perused even by the learned, until about half a century 
ago, when attention was again directed to them, and they were 
found very curious monuments of ancient manners, habits, and 
modes of thinking. Several have since been edited, some by 
individuals, as Sir Walter Scott and the poet Southey, others 
by antiquarian societies. The class of readers Avhich could be 
counted on for such ]nTblications was so small that no induce- 



INTRODUCTION. 25 

ment of profit could be found to. tempt editors and publishers 
to give them to the world. It was therefore only a few, and 
those the most accessible, which w^ere put in print. There was 
a class of manuscripts of this kind which were known, or rather 
suspected, to be both curious and valuable, but which it seemed 
almost hopeless ever to see in fair printed English. These were 
the Welsh popular tales, called Mahinogeon^ a plural word, the 
singular being 3Iahinogi^ a tale. Manuscripts of these w^ere 
contained in the Bodleian Library at Oxford, and elsewhere, 
but the difficulty was to find translators and editors. The 
Welsh is a spoken language among the peasantry of Wales, but 
is entirely neglected among the learned, unless they are natives 
of the principality. Of the few Welsh scholars none were 
found who took sufficient interest in tliis branch of learning to 
give these productions to the English public. Southey and 
Scott, and others who, like them, loved the old romantic legends 
of their country, often urged upon the Welsh literati the duty 
of reproducing the Mabinogeon. Southey, in the preface to 
his edition of Morte d' Arthur, says : " The specimens which I 
have seen are exceedingly curious; nor is there a greater de- 
sideratum in British literature than an edition of these tales, 
with a literal version, and such comments as Mr. Davies of all 
men is best qualified to give. Certain it is that many of the 
Round Table fictions originated in Wales, or in Bretagne, and 
probably might still be traced there." 

Again, in a letter to Sir Charles W. W. Wynn, dated 1819, 
be says : — 

"I begin almost to despair of ever seeing more of the Ma- 
binogeon.; and yet,- if some competent Welshman could be 
found to edit it carefully, with as literal a version as possible, 
I am sure it might be made wortli his while by a subscription, 
printing a small edition at a high price, perhaps two hundred 
at five guineas. I myself would gladly subscribe at that price 
per volume for such an edition of the whole of your genuine 
remains in prose and verse. Till some such collection is made, 
the 'gentlemen of Wales' ought to be prohibited from w^ear- 
ing a leek ; ay, and interdicted from toasting cheese also. 
Your bards would have met with better usage if they had 
been Scotchmen." 



26 KING ARTHUR AND HIS KNIGHTS. 

Sharon Turner and Sir Walter Scott also expressed a simi- 
lar wish for the publication of the Welsh manuscripts. The 
former took part in an attempt to effect it, through the instru- 
mentality of a Mr. Owen, a Welshman, but, we judge, by what 
Southey says of him, imperfectly acquainted with English. 
Southey's language is, " William Owen lent me three parts of 
the Mabinogeon, delightfully translated into so Welsh an 
idiom and syntax that such a translation is as instructive as an 
original." In another letter he adds, " Let Sharon make his 
language grammatical, but not alter their idiom in the slight- 
est point." 

It is possible Mr. Owen did not proceed far in an un- 
dertaking which, so executed, could expect but little popular 
patronage. It was not till an individual should appear pos- 
sessed of the requisite knowledge of the two languages, of 
enthusiasm sufficient for the task, and of pecuniary resources 
sufficient to be independent of the booksellers and of the reading 
public, that such a work could be confidently expected. Such 
an individual has, since Southey's day and Scott's, appeared in 
the person of Lady Charlotte Guest, an English lady united to 
a gentleman of property in Wales, who, having acquired the 
language of the principality, and become enthusiastically fond 
of its literary treasures, has given them to the English reader, 
in a dress which the printer's and the engraver's arts have 
done their best to adorn. In four royal octavo volumes con- 
taining the Welsh originals, the translation, and ample illus- 
trations from French, German, and other contemporary and 
affiliated literature, the Mabinogeon is spread before us. To 
the antiquarian and the student of language and ethnology an 
invaluable treasure, it yet can hardly, in such a form, win its 
way to popular acquaintance. We claim no other merit than 
that of bringing it to the knowledge of our readers, of abridg- 
ing its details, of selecting its most attractive portions, and of 
faithfully preserving throughout the style in which Lady 
Guest has clothed her legends. For this service we hope that 
our readers will confess Ave have laid them under no light 
oblia-ation. 




CHAPTEE II. 



THE MYTHICAL HISTORY OF EXGLAXD. 



ACCOEDING to the earliest accounts, Albion, a giant, and 
son of Neptune, a contemporary of Hercules, ruled over 
the island, to which he gave his name. Presuming to oppose 
the progress of Hercules in his western march, he was shiin 
by him. 

Another story is that Histion, the son of Japhet, the son of 
Noah, liad four sons, — Francus, Eomanus, Aleniannus, and 
Britto, from wliom descended the Frenclj, Eoman, German, 
and British people. 

Eejecting these and other like stories, Milton gives more 
regard to the story of Brutus, the Trojan, which, he says, is 
supported by " descents of ancestry long continued, laws and 
exploits not plainly seeming to be borrowed or devised, which 
on the common belief have wrought no small impression; 
defended by many, denied utterly by few." The principal 
authority is Geoffrey of Monmouth, whose history, written in 
the twelfth century, purports to be a translation of a history 

27 



28 KING ARTHUK AND HIS KNIGHTS. 

of Britain, brought over from the opposite shore of France, 
which, under the name of Brittany, was chiefly peopled by 
natives of Britain, who from time to time emigrated thither, 
driven from their own country by the inroads of the Picts and 
Scots. According to this authority, Brutus was the son of 
Silvius, and he of Ascanius, the son of ^neas, whose flight 
from Troy and settlement in Italy will be found narrated in 
•'The Age of Fable." 

Brutus, at the age of fifteen, attending his father to the 
chase, unfortunately killed him with an arrow. Banished 
therefor by his kindred^ he sought refuge in that jjart of 
Greece where Helenus, writh a band of Trojan exiles, had 
become established. But Helenus was now dead, and the 
descendants of the Trojans were oppressed by Pandrasus, the 
king of the country. Brutus, being kindly received among 
them, so throve in virtue and in arms as to win the regard of 
all the eminent of the land above all others of his age. In 
consequence of this the Trojans not only began to hope, but 
secretly to persuade him to lead them the way to liberty. To 
encourage them they had the promise of help from Assaracus, 
a noble Greek youth, whose mother was a Trojan. He had 
suffered wrong at the hands of the king, and for that reason 
the more willingly cast in his lot with the Trojan exiles. 

Choosing a fit opportunity, Brutus with his countrymen 
withdrew to the woods and hills, as the safest place from 
which to expostulate, and sent this message to Pandrasus: 
"That the Trojans, holding it unworthy of their ancestors to 
serve in a foreign land, had retreated to the woods, choosing 
rather a savage life than a slavish one. If that displeased him, 
then, with his leave, they w^ould depart to some other country." 
Pandrasus, not expecting so bold a message from the sons of 
captives, Avent in pursuit of them, with such forces as he 
could gatlier, and met them on the banks of the Achelous, 
where Brutus got the advantage, and took the king captive. 
The result was, that the terms demanded by the Trojans were 
o-ranted ; the king gave his daughter Imogen in marriage to 
Brutus, and furnished shipping, money, and fit provision for 
them all to depart from the land. 



THE MYTHICAL HISTORY OF ENGLAED. 29 

The marriage being solemnized, and ship23ing from all parts 
got together, the Trojans, in a fleet of no less than three hun- 
dred and twenty sail, betook themselves to the sea. On the 
third day they arrived at a certain island, which they found 
destitute of inhabitants, though there were appearances of 
former habitation, and among the ruins a temple of Diana. 
Brutus, here performing sacrifice at the shrine of the goddess, 
invoked an oracle for his guidance, in these lines : — 

" Goddess of shades, and huntress, who at will 
Walk'st on the rolling sphere, and through the deep ; 
On tlw third realm, the earth, look now and tell 
What land, what seat of rest, thou bidd'st me seek ; 
What certain seat where I may worship thee 
For aye, with temples vowed and virgin choirs." 

To whom, sleeping before the altar, Diana in a vision thus 
answered : — 

" Brutus ! far to the west, in the ocean wide. 
Beyond the realm of Gaul, a land there lies, 
Seagirt it lies, where giants dwelt of old ; 
Now, void, it fits thy people : thither bend 
Thy course ; there shalt thou find a lasting seat; 
There to thy sons another Troy shall rise. 
And kings be born of thee, whose dreaded might 
Shall save the world, and conquer nations bold." 

Brutus, guided now, as he thought, by Divine direction, 
sped his course towards the west, and, arriving at a place on 
the Tyrrhene sea, found there the descendants of certain Tro- 
jans who with Antenor came into Italy, of whom Corineus 
was the chief. These joined company, and the shijDS pursued 
their w^ay till they arrived at the mouth of the river Loire, in 
France, where the expedition landed, with a view to a settle- 
ment, but were so rudely assaulted by the inhabitants that 
they put to sea again, and arrived at a part of the coast of 
Britain now called Devonshire, where Brutus felt convinced 
that he had found the promised end of his voyage, landed his 
colony, and took possession. 

The island, not yet Britain, but Albion, was in a manner 
desert and inhospitable, occupied only by a remnant of the 
giant race whose excessive force and tyranny had destroyed 



30 KING ARTHUR AXD HIS KNIGHTS. 

the others. The Trojans encountered these and extirj^ated 
them, Corineus in particular signalizing himself by his ex- 
ploits against them ; from whom Cornwall takes its name, for 
that region fell to his lot, and there the hugest giants d^elt, 
lurking in rocks and caves, till Corineus rid the land of them. 
Brutus built his capital city, and called it Trojanova (New 
Troy), changed in time to Trinovantum, now London ; * and, 
having governed the isle twenty-four years, died, leaving three 
sons, Locrine, Albanact, and Camber. Locrine had the middle 
part. Camber the west, called Cambria from him, and Albanact 
Albania, now Scotland. Locrine was married to Guendolen, 
the daughter of Corineus ; but, having seen a fair maid named 
Estrildis, who had been brought captive from Germany, he 
became enamored of her, and had by her a daughter, whose 
name was Sabra. This matter was kept secret while Corineus 
lived ; but after his death, Locrine divorced Guendolen, and 
made Estrildis his queen. Guendolen, all in rage, departed to 
Cornwall, where Madan, her son, lived, who had been brought 
up by Corineus, his grandfatlier. Gathering an army of her 
father's friends and subjects, she gave battle to her husband's 
forces, and Locrine was slain. Guendolen caused her rival, 
Estrildis, with her daughter Sabra, to be thrown into the river, 
from which cause the river thenceforth bore the maiden's 
name, which by length of time is now changed into Sabrina or 
Severn. Milton alludes to this in his address to the river — 

" Severn swift, guilty of maiden's death " ; — 

and in his " Comus " tells the story with a slight variation, 
tlms : — 

" There ia a genlle nymph not far from hence, 
That with moist curb sways the smooth Severn stream ; 
Sabrina is her name, a virgin pure : 
AVhilom she was the daughter of Locrine, 
That had the sceptre from his f;\ther, Brute. 
She, guiltless damsel, flying the mad pursuit 
Of her enrag<ul step-dame, Guendolen, 
Commended her lair innocence to the flood, 



' For noble Britons sprong from Trojans bold, 
And Troynovant was built of old Troy's ashes cold/ 

Spenser, Book III. Canto IX. 38. 



THE MYTHICAL HISTORY OF ENGLAND. 31 

That slaved her flight with his cross-flowing course. 
The water-nymphs that in the hottom played 
Held up their pearle'd wrists and took her in, 
Bearing her straight to aged Nereus' hall, 
Who, piteous of her woes, reared her lank head, 
And gave her to his daughters to imbathe 
In nectared lavers strewed with asphodel. 
And through the porch and inlet of each sense 
Dropped in ambrosial oils till she revived, 
And underwent a quick, immortal change, 
Made goddess of the river," etc. 

If our readers ask when all this took place, we must answer, 
in the first place, that mythology is not careful of dates ; and 
next that, as Brutus was the great-grandson of ^neas, it must 
have been not far from a century subsequent to the Trojan 
war, or about 1100 years before the invasion of the island by 
Julius Caesar. This long interval is filled with the names of 
princes whose chief occupation was in warring with one an- 
other. Some few, w^hose names remain connected with places, 
or embalmed in-literature, we will mention. 



Bladud. 

Bladud built the city of Bath, and dedicated the medicinal 
waters to Minerva. He was a man of great invention, and 
practised the arts of magic, till, having made him wings to fly, 
he fell down upon the temple of Apollo, in Trinovant, and so 
died, after twenty years' reign. 

Leir. 

Leir, who next reigned, built Leicester, and called it after 
his name. He had no male issue, but only three daughters. 
When grown old, he determined to divide his kingdom among 
his daughters, and bestow them in marriage. But first, to try 
which of them loved him best, he determined to ask them sol- 
emnly in order, and judge of the warmth of their affection by 
their answers. Goneril, the eldest, knowing well her father's 
weakness, made answer that she loved him "above her soul." 
" Since thou so honorest my declining age," said the old man, 



32 KING ARTHUR AND HIS KNIGHTS. 

'Ho thee and to thy husband I give the third part of my 
realm." Such good success for a few words soon uttered was 
ample instruction to Regan, tlie second daughter, what to say. 
She therefore, to the same question replied, that " she loved 
him more than all the world beside"; and so received an equal 
reward with her sister. But Cordeilla, the youngest, and hith- 
erto the best beloved, too honest to profess in words more than 
she felt in her heart, was not moved from the solid purpose of 
a sincere and virtuous answer, and replied : " Father, my love 
towards you is as my duty bids. They who pretend beyond 
this flatter." When the old man, sorry to hear this, and wish- 
ing her to recall these words, persisted in asking, she still re- 
strained her exj^ressions so as to say rather less than more than 
the truth. Then Leir, all in a passion, burst forth: "Since 
thou hast not reverenced thy aged father like thy sisters, think 
not to have any part in my kingdom or Avhat else I have"; — 
and without delay, giving in marriage his other daughters, 
Goneril to the Duke of Albany, and Regan to the Duke of 
Cornwall, he divides his kingdom between them. Cordeilla, 
portionless, married the prince of France, who shortly after 
succeeded his father upon the throne. 

King Leir went to reside with his eldest daughter, attended 
only by a hundred knights. But in a short time his attendants, 
being complained of as too numerous and disorderly, are re- 
duced to thirty. Resenting that affront, the old king betakes 
him to his second daughter ; but she, instead of soothing his 
wounded pride, takes part with her sister, and refuses to admit 
a retinue of more than five. Then back he returns to the 
other, who now will not receive him with more than one at- 
tendant. Then the remembrance of Cordeilla comes to his 
thoughts, and he takes his journey into France to seek her, with 
little hope of kind consideration from one whom he had so 
injured, but to pay her the last recompense he can render, — 
confession of his injustice. When Cordeilla is informed of his 
approach, and of his sad condition, she pours forth true filial 
tears. And, not willing that her own or others' eyes should see 
him in that forlorn condition, she sends one of her trusted 
servants to meet him, and convey him privately to some com- 



THE MYTHICAL HISTORY OF ENGLAND. 33 

fortable abode, and to furnish him with such state as befitted his 
dignity. After which Cordeilla, with the king her husband, 
went in state to meet him, and, after an honorable reception, 
the king permitted his wife Cordeilla to go with an army and 
set her father again upon his throne. They prospered, subdued 
the wicked sisters and their consorts, and Leir obtained the 
crown and held it three years. Cordeilla succeeded him, and 
reigned five years ; but the sons of her sisters, after that? 
rebelled against her, and she lost both her crown and life. 

Shakespeare has chosen this story as the subject of his trag- 
edy of King Lear, varying its details in some respects. The 
madness of Lear, and the ill success of Cordeilla's attempt to 
reinstate her father, are the principal variations, and those 
in the names will also be noticed. Our narrative is drawn 
from Milton's History ; and thus the reader will perceive 
that the story of Leir has had the distinguished honor of 
being told by the two acknowledged chiefs of British lite- 
rature. 

Fekrex and Porrex. 

Ferrex and Porrex were brothers, who held the kingdom 
after Leir. They quarrelled about the supremacy, and Porrex 
expelled his brother, who, obtaining aid from Suard, king of 
the Franks, returned and made war upon Porrex. Ferrex was 
slain in battle, and his forces dispersed. When their mother 
came to hear of her son's death, who was her favorite, she fell 
into a great rage, and conceived a mortal hatred against the 
survivor. She took, therefore, her opportunity when he was 
asleep, fell upon him, and, with the assistance of her women, 
tore him in pieces. This horrid story would not be worth 
relating, were it not for the fact that it has furnished the plot 
for the first tragedy which was written in the English language. 
It was entitled Gorboduc, but in the second edition Ferrex and 
Porrex, and was the production of Thomas Sackville, afterwards 
Earl of Dorset, and Thomas Norton, a barrister. Its date was 
1561. 



34 KING ARTHUK AND HIS KNIGHTS. 



DuiTWALLO MOLMUTIUS. 

This is the next name of note. Mohnutius established the 
Mohnutine laws, which bestowed the j^rivilege of sanctuary on 
temj^les, cities, and the roads leading to them, and gave tlie 
same protection to ploughs, extending a religious sanction to 
the labors of the field. Shakespeare alludes to him in Cymbe- 
line. Act III. Sc. I. : — 

" Molmutius made our laws ; 
Who was the first of Britain Avhich did put 
His brows within a golden crown, and called 
Himself a kino-." 



Bkennus and Belinus, 

the sons of Molmutius, succeeded him. They quarrelled, and 
Brennus was driven out of the island, and took refuge in Gaul, 
where he met with such favor from the king of the Allobroges, 
that he gave him his daughter in marriage, and made him 
his partner on the throne. Brennus is the name which the 
Roman historians give to the famous leader of the Gauls who 
took Rome in the time of Camillus. Geoffrey of Monmouth 
claims the glory of the conquest for the British prince, after 
he had become king of the Allobroo'es. 



Eliduee. 

After Beliiuis and Brennus there reigned several kings of 
little note, and then came Elidure. Arthgallo, his brother, 
being king, gave great offence to his powerful nobles, who rose 
against him, deposed him, and advanced Elidure to the throne, 
Arthgallo fled, and endeavored to find assistance in the neigh- 
boring kingdoms to reinstate him, but found none. Elidure 
reigned prosperously and wisely. After five years' possession 
of the kingdom, one day, when hunting, he met in the forest 
his brother, Arthgallo, who had been deposed. After long 
wandering, unable longer to bear the poverty to which he way 
reduced, he had returned to Britain, with only ten followers. 



THE MYTHICAL HISTORY OF ENGLAND. 35 

designing to repair to those who had formerly been his friends. 
Elidure, at the sight of his brother in distress, forgetting all 
animosities, ran to him, and embraced him. He took Arthgallo 
home with him, and concealed him in the palace. After this 
he feigned himself sick, and, calling his nobles about him, in- 
duced them, partly by persuasion, partly by force, to consent 
to his abdicating the kingdom, and reinstating his brother on 
the throne. The agreement being ratified, Elidure took the 
crown from his own head, and put it on his brother's head. 
Arthgallo after this reigned ten years, well and wisely, exer- 
cising strict justice towards all men. 

He died, and left the kingdom to his sons, who reigned with 
various fortunes, but were not long-lived, and left no offspring, 
so that Elidure was again advanced to the throne, and finished 
the course of his life in just and virtuous actions, receiving the 
name of the pious, from the love and admiration of his subjects. 

Wordsworth has taken the story of Artegal and Elidure for 
the subject of a poem, which is Xo. 2 of " Poems founded on 
the Affections." 

After Elidure the Chronicle names many kings, but none of 
special note, till we come to Lud, who greatly enlarged Tri- 
novant, his capital, and surrounded it with a wall. He changed 
its name, bestowing upon it his own, so that thenceforth it was 
called Lud's town, afterwards London. Lud was buried by the 
gate of the city called after him Ludgate. He had two sons, 
but they were not old enough at the time of their father's death 
to sustain the <3ares of government, and therefore their uncle 
Caswallaun, or Cassibellaunus, succeeded to the kingdom. He 
was a brave and magnificent prince, so that his fame reached 
to distant countries. 



Cassibellaunus. 

About this time it happened (as is found in the Roman 
histories) that Julius Cassar, having subdued Gaul, came to the 
shore opposite Britain. And having resolved to add this island 



36 KING ARTHUR AND HIS KNIGHTS. 

also to his conquest, he prepared ships^and transported his 
army across the sea, to the mouth of the river Thames. Here 
he was met by Cassibellaun, with all his forces, and a battle 
ensued, in which Nennius, the brother of Cassibellaun, engaged 
in single combat with Caesar. After several furious blows given 
and received, the sword of Caesar stuck so fast in the shield of 
Nennius, that it could not be pulled out, and, the combatants 
being se^^arated by the intervention of the troops, Nennius 
emained possessed of this trophy. At last, after the greater 
, rt of the day was spent, the Britons poured in so fast that 
Caesar was forced to retire to his camp and fleet. And finding 
it useless to continue the war any longer at that time, he re- 
turned to Gaul. 

Shakesjieare alludes to Cassibellaunus, in Cj-mbeline : — 

" The famed Cassibelan, who was once at point 
(0 giglot fortune !) to master Caesar's sword, 
Made Liid's town with rejoicing fires bright, 
And Britons strut Avith courage." 



Kymbelixus, ok Cymbeline. 

Caesar, on a second invasion of the island, was more fortunate, 
and compelled the Britons to pay tribute. Cymbeline, the 
neph^ of the king, was delivered to the Romans as a hostage 
for the faithful fulfilment of the treaty, and, being carried to 
Rome by Caesar, he was there brought up in the Roman arts 
and accomplishments. Being afterwards restored to his coun- 
try, and placed on the throne, he was attached to the Romans, 
and continued through all his reign at peace with them. His 
sons, Guiderius and Arviragus, who make their appearance in 
Shakespeare's play of Cymbeline, succeeded their father, and, 
refusing to pay tribute to the Romans, brought on another in- 
vasion. Guiderius was slain, but Arviragus afterward made 
terms with the Romans, and reigned prosperously many years. 



THE MYTHICAL HISTORY OF EXGLAXD. 37 



Aemorica. 

The next event of note is the conquest and colonization of 
Armorica, by Maximus, a Roman general, and Conan, lord of 
Miniadoc or Denbigh-land, in Wales. The name of the country 
was changed to Brittany, or Lesser Britain ; and so completely 
was it possessed by the British colonists, that the language b^ 
came assimilated to that spoken in Wales, and it is said thi 
to this day the peasantry of the two countries can understa 
each other when speaking their native language. 

The Romans eventually succeeded in establishing themselves 
in the island, and after the lapse of several generations they 
became blended Avith the natives so that no distinction existed 
between the two races. When at length the Roman armies 
were withdrawn from Britain, their dej^arture was a matter of 
regret to the inhabitants, as it left them without protection 
against the barbarous tribes, Scots, Picts, and Xorwegians, who 
harassed the country incessantly. This was the state of things 
when the era of Kino- Arthur beo-an. 



The adventure of Albion, the giant, with Hercules is alludecl 
to by Spenser, Faery Queene, Book lY., Canto xi. : — '^ 

" For Albion the son of Xeptune was ; 
Who foi- the proof of his ofi-eat puissance, 
Out of his Albion did on dry foot pass, 
Into old Gaul that now is cleped France, 
To fight with Hercules, that did advance 
To vanquish all the world with matchless micrht; 
And there his mortal part by great mischance 
Was slain." 




CHAPTER III. 



ARTHUR. 



TT7"E shall begin our history of King Arthur by giving 
^ ^ those particulars of his life which appear to rest on 
historical evidence ; and then proceed to record those legends 
concerning him which form the earliest portion of British 
literature. 

Arthur was a prince of the tribe of Britons called Silures, 
whose country Avas South Wales, — the son of Uther, named 
Pendragon, a title given to an elective sovereign, paramount 
over the many kings of Britain. He appears to have com- 
menced his martial career about the year 500, and was raised 
to the Pendragonship about ten years later. He is said to 
have gained twelve victories over the Saxons. The most im- 
portant of them was that of Badon, by some supposed to be 
Bath, by others Berkshire. This was the last of his battles 
with the Saxons, and checked their progress so effectually that 
Arthur experienced no more annoyance from them, and reigned 
38 



i 



ARTHUR. 39 

in peace, until the revolt of liis nephew Modred, twenty years 
later, w^hich led to the fatal battle of Camlan, in Cornwall, in 
542. Modred was slain, and Arthur, mortally wounded, was 
conveyed by sea to Glastonbury, where he died, and was 
buried. Tradition preserved the memory of the place of his 
interment within the abbey, as we are told by Giraldus Cam- 
brensis, who was present when the grave was opened by com- 
mand of Henry II. in 1150, and saw the bones and sword of 
the monarch, and a leaden cross let into his tombstone, with 
the inscription in rude Roman letters, " Here lies buried the 
famous King Arthur, in the island Avolonia." This story has 
been elegantly versified by Warton. A popular traditional 
belief was long entertained among the Britons that Arthur 
was not dead, but had been carried off to be healed of his 
wounds in Fairy-land, and that he would reappear to avenge 
his countrymen, and reinstate them in the sovereignty of 
Britain. In Warton's Ode a bard relates to King Henry the 
traditional story of Arthur's death, and closes with these 
lines : — 

'* Yet in vain a paynini foe 
Armed with fate the mighty blow ; 
For when he fell, the Elfin queen, 
All in secret and unseen. 
O'er the fainting hero threw 
Her mantle of ambrosial blue, 
And bade her spirits bear him far. 
In Merlin's agate-axled oar, 
To her green isle's enamelled steep. 
Far in the navel of the deep. 
O'er his wounds she sprinkled dew 
From flowers that in Arabia grew. 



There he reigns a mighty king, 
Thence to Britain shall return, 
If right prophetic rolls I learn, 
Borne on victory's spreading plume, 
His ancient sceptre to resume. 
His knightl,v table to restore, 
And brave the tournaments of yore.' 



40 KING AETHUR AND HIS KNIGHTS. 

After this narration another bard came forward, who recited 
a different story : — 

" When Arthur bowed his haughty crest, 
No princess veiled in azure vest 
Snatched him, by Merlin's powerful spell, 
In groves of golden bliss to dwell ; 
But when he fell, with winged speed, 
His champions, on a milk-white steed. 
From the battle's hurricane 
Bore him to Joseph's towered fane,* 
In the fair vale of Avalon ; 
There, with chanted orison 
And the long blaze of tapers clear, 
The stoled fathers met the bier ; 
Through the dim aisles, in order dread 
Of martial woe, the chief they led, 
And deep entombed in holy ground, 
Before the altar's solemn bound." 

It must not be concealed, that the very existence of Arthur 
has been denied by some. Milton says of him: "As to Ar- 
tliur, more renowned in songs and romances than in true sto- 
ries, who he was, and whether ever any such reigned in Britain, 
hath been doubted heretofore, and may again, wdth good rea- 
son." Modern critics, however, admit that there w^as a j^rince 
of this name, and find proof of it in the frequent mention of 
him in the writings of the Welsh bards. But the Arthur of 
romance, according to Mr. Owen, a Welsh scholar and anti- 
quarian, is a mythological person. "Arthur," he says, "is the 
Great Bear, as the name literally implies (Arctos, Arcturus). 
and perhaps this constellation, being so near the pole, and visi- 
bly describing a circle in a small space, is the origin of the 
famous Round Table." Let us now turn to the liistory of 
King Arthur, as recorded by the romantic chroniclers. 

* Glastonbury Abbey, said to be founded by Joseph of Arimathea, in a spot 
anciently called the island or valley of Avalonia. 

Tennyson, in his Palace of Art, alludes to the legend of Arthur's rescue by 
the Fairy queen, thus : — 

" Or mythic Uther's deeply wounded sou. 
In some fair space of sloping greens, 
Lay dozing in the vale of Avalon, 
And watched b}- weeping queens." 

I 



ARTHUR. 41 

Constans, king of Britain, had three sons, Moines, Ambro- 
sius, otherwise called Uther, and Pendragon. Moines, soon 
after his accession to the crown, was vanquished by the Sax- 
ons, in consequence of the treachery of his seneschal, Vorti- 
gern, and growing unpopular, through misfortune, he was 
killed by his subjects, and the traitor Vortigern chosen in his 
place. 

Vortigern was soon after defeated in a great battle by Uther 
and Pendragon, the surviving brothers of Moines, and Pen- 
dragon ascended the throne. 

This prince had great confidence in the wisdom of Merlin, 
and made him his chief adviser. About this time a dreadful 
war arose between the Saxons and Britons. Merlin obliged 
the royal brothers to swear fidelity to each other, but predicted 
that one of them mast fall in the first battle. The Saxons 
were routed, and Pendragon, being slain, was succeeded by 
Uther, who now assumed, in addition to his own name, the 
appellation of Pendragon. 

Merlin still continued a favorite counsellor. At the request 
of Uther, he transported by magic art enormous stones from 
Ireland, to form the sepulchre of Pendragon. These stones 
constitute the monument now called Stonehenge, on Salisbury 
Plain. 

Merlin next proceeded to Carlisle to prepare the Round 
Table, at which he seated an assemblage of the great nobles of 
the country. The companions admitted to this high order 
were bound by oath to assist each other at the hazard of their 
own lives, to attempt singly the most perilous adventures, to 
lead, when necessary, a life of monastic solitude, to fly to arms 
at the first summons, and never to retire from battle till 
they had defeated the enemy, unless night intervened and sep- 
arated the combatants. 

Soon after this institution, the king invited all his barons to 
the celebration of a great festival, which he 23roposed holding 
annually at Carlisle. 

As the knights had obtained the sovereign's permission to 
bring their ladies along with them, the beautiful Igerne accom- 
panied her husband, Gerlois, Duke of TintadieT, to one of 



42 KING ARTHUR AND HIS KNIGHTS. 

these anniversaries. The king became deej^ly enamored of 
the Duchess, and disclosed his passion ; but Igerne repelled his 
advances, and revealed his solicitations to her husband. On 
hearing this, the Duke instantly removed from court with 
Igerne, and without taking leave of Uther. The king com- 
plained to his council of this want of duty, and they decided 
that the Duke should be summoned to court, and, if refrac- 
tory, should be treated as a rebel. As he refused to obey the 
citation, the king carried war into the estates of his vassal, 
and besieged him in the strong castle of Tintadiel. Merlin 
transformed the king into the likeness of Gerlois, and enabled 
him to have many stolen interviews with Igerne. At length 
the Duke was killed in battle, and the king espoused Igerne. 

From this union sprang Arthur, who succeeded his father, 
Uther, upon the throne. 

Arthur Chosen King. 

Arthur, though only fifteen years old at his father's death, 
was elected king, at a general meeting of the nobles. It was 
not done without opposition, for there were many ambitious 
competitors ; but Bishop Brice, a person of great sanctity, on 
Christmas eve addressed the assembly, and represented that it 
would well become them, at that solemn season, to put up their 
prayers for some token which should manifest the intentions 
of Providence respecting their future sovereign. This ^^as 
done, and with such success, that the service was scarcely 
ended, when a miraculous stone was discovered, before the 
church door, and in the stone was firmly fixed a sword, with 
t]ie following words engraven on its hilt : — 

" I am hight Escalibore, 
Unto a king- fair tresore." 

Bishop Brice, after exhorting the assembly to offer up their 
thanksgivings for this signal miracle, proposed a law, that 
whoever should be able to draw out the sword from the stone, 
should be acknowledged as sovereign of the Britons ; and his 
proposal was decreed by general acclamation. The tributary 



ARTHUR. 43 

kings of Uther, and the most famous knights, successively j^ut 
their strength to the proof, but the miraculous sword resisted 
all their efforts. It stood till Candlemas ; it stood till Easter, 
and till Pentecost, when the best knights in the kingdom usu- 
ally assembled for the annual tournament. Arthur, who was 
at that time serving in the capacity of squire to his foster- 
brother. Sir Kay, attended his master to the lists. Sir Kay 
fought with great valor and success, but had the misfortune to 
break his sword, and sent Arthur to his mother for a new one. 
Arthur hastened home, but did not find the lady ; but having 
observed near the church a sword sticking in a stone, he gal- 
loped to the place, drew^ out 4:he sword w^th great ease, and 
delivered it to his master. Sir Kay would willingly have as- 
sumed to himself the distinction conferred by the possession 
of the sword ; but when, to confirm the doubters, the sword 
was replaced in the stone, he was utterly unable to witlidraw 
it, and it would yield a second time to no hand but Arthur's. 
Thus decisively pointed out by Heaven as their king, Arthur 
was by general consent proclaimed as such, and an early day 
appointed for his solemn coronation. 

Immediately after his election to the crown, Arthur found' 
himself opjoosed by eleven kings and one duke, who with a vast 
army were actually encamped in the forest of Rockingham. By 
Merlin's advice Arthur sent an embassy to Brittany to solicit 
aid of King Ban and King Bohort, two of the best knights in 
the world. They accepted the call, and with a powerful army 
crossed the sea, landing at Portsmouth, where they were re- 
ceived with great rejoicing. The rebel kings were still supe- 
rior in nuuibers ; but Merlin by a powerful enchantment, caused 
all their tents to fall down at once, and in the confusion 
Arthur with his allies fell upon them and totally routed 
them. 

After defeating the rebels, Arthur took the field against the 
Saxons. As they were too strong for him unaided, he sent an 
embassy to Armorica, beseeching the assistance of Hoel, who 
soon after brought over an army to his aid. The two kings 
joined their forces, and sought the enemy, whom they met, and 
both sides prepared for a decisive engagement. " Artliur him- 



44 KING ARTHUR AND HIS KNIGHTS. 

self," as Geoffrey of Monmouth relates, " dressed in a breast- 
plate worthy of so great a king, places on his head a golden 
helmet engraved with the semblance of a dragon. Over his 
shoulders he throws his shield called Priwen, on which a picture 
of the Holy Virgin constantly recalled her to his memory. Girt 
with Caliburn, a most excellent sword, and fabricated in the isle 
of Avalon, he graces his right hand with the lance named Ron. 
This was a long and broad spear, well contrived for slaughter." 
After a severe conflict, Arthur, calling on the name of the Vir- 
gin, rushes into the midst of his enemies, and destroys multi- 
tudes of them with the formidable Caliburn, and puts the rest 
to flight. Ploel, being detained by sickness, took no part in 
this battle. 

This is called the victory of Mount Badon, and, however 
disguised by fable, it is regarded by historians as a real event. 

The feats performed by Arthur at the battle of Badon Mount 
are thus celeljrated in Drayton's verse : — 

" They suug how he himself at Badon bore, that clay, 
When at the glorious goal his British scepter lay ; 
Two dais together how the battel stronglie stood ; 
Pendragon's worthie son, who waded there in blood, 
Tiiree hundred Saxons slew with his owne valiant hand." 

Song IV, 



Merlin. 



The most famous man of all those times, 



■ / Merlin, who knew the range of all their arts, 

r Had built the King his havens, ships and halls. 

Was also Bard, and knew the starry heavens; 
The people called liim wizard." — Tennyson. 

Now Merlin, of whom we have already heard somewhat and 
shall hear more, was the son of no mortal father, but of an 
Incubus, one of a class of beings not absolutely wicked, but 
far from good, w^ho inhabit the regions of the air. Merlin's 
mother was a virtuous young woman, who, on the birth of her 
son, intrusted him to a priest, who hurried him to the baptis- 
mal fount, and so saved him from sharing the lot of his father, 
though he retained many marks of his unearthly origin. 



ARTHUR. 45 

At this time Vortigern reigned in Britain. He was a usurper, 
who had caused the death of his sovereign, Moines, and driven 
the two brothers of the late king, whose names were Uther and 
Pendragon, into banishment. Vortigern, who lived in con- 
stant fear of the return of the rightful heirs of the kingdom, 
began to erect a strong tower for defence. The edifice, when 
brought by the workmen to a certain height, three times fell to 
the ground, without any apparent cause. The king consulted 
his astrologers on this wonderful event, and learned from them 
that it would be necessary to bathe the corner-stone of the 
foundation with the blood of a child born without a mortal 
father. 

In search of such an infant, Vortigern sent his messengers 
all over the kingdom, and they by accident discovered Merlin, 
whose lineage seemed to j^oint him out as the individual 
wanted. They took him to the king ; but Merlin, young as he 
was, explained to the king the absurdity of attempting to res- 
cue the fabric by such means, for he told him the true cause of 
the instability of the tower was its being placed over the den 
of two immense dragons, whose combats shook the earth above 
them. The kins: ordered his workmen to dio- beneath the 
tower, and when they had done so they discovered two enor- 
mous serpents, the one white as milk, the other red as fire. 
The multitude looked on with amazement, till the serpents, 
slowly rising from their den, and expanding their enormous 
folds, began the combat, when every one fled in terror, except 
Merlin, who stood by clapping his hands and cheering on the 
conflict. The red dragon was slain, and the white one, gliding 
through a cleft in the rock, disappeared. 

These animals typified, as Merlin afterwards explained, the 
invasion of Uther and Pendragon, the rightful princes, Avho 
soon after landed with a great army. Vortigern was defeated, 
and afterwards burned alive in the castle he had taken such 
23ains to construct. On the death of Vortigern, Pendragon 
ascended the throne. Merlin became his chief adviser, and 
often assisted the king by his magical arts. Among other en- 
dowments, he had the power to transform himself into any 
shape he pleased. At one time he appeared as a dwarf, at 



46 KING ARTHUR AXD HIS KNIGHTS. 

Others as a damsel, a page, or even a greyhound or a stag. This 
faculty he often emj^loyed for the service of the king, and 
sometimes also for the diversion of the court and the sove- 
reign. 

Merlin continued to be a favorite counsellor through the 
reigns of Pendragon, Uther, and Arthur, and at last disap- 
peared from view, and was no more found among men, through 
the treachery of his mistress, Viviane, the Fairy, which hap- 
pened in this wise. 

Merlin, having become enamored of the fair Viviane, the 
Lady of the Lake, was weak enough to impart to her various 
important secrets of his art, being impelled by a fatal destiny, 
of which he was at tlie same time fully aware. The lady, how- 
ever, was not content with his devotion, unbounded as it 
seems to have been, but " cast about," the Romance tells 
us, how she might " detain him for evermore," and one 
day addressed him in these terms : " Sir, I would that we 
should make a fair place and a suitable, so contrived by art 
and by cunning that it might never be undone, and that you 
and I should be there in joy and solace." "My lady," said 
Merlin, " I will do all this." " Sir," said she, " I would not 
have you do it, but you shall teach me, and I will do it, and 
then it will be more to my mind." " I grant you this," said 
Merlin. Then he began to devise, and the damsel put it all in 
writing. And when he had devised the whole, then had the 
damsel full great joy, and showed him greater semblance of 
love than she liad ever before made, and they sojourned to- 
gether a long while. At length it fell out that, as they were 
going one day hand in hand through the forest of Breceliande, 
they found a bush of white-thorn, which was laden with flow- 
ers ; and they seated themselves, under the shade of this white- 
thorn, upon the grass, and Merlin laid his head upon the dam- 
sel's lap, and fell asleep. Then the damsel rose, and made a 
ring with her wimple round the bush, and round Merlin, and 
began her enchantments, such as he himself had taught her ; 
and nine times she made the ring, and nine times she made the 
enchantment, and then she went and sat down by him, and 
placed his head again upon her lap. And when he awoke, nnd 



AETHUE. 47 

looked round him, it seemed to liim that he was enclosed in the 
strongest tower in the world, and laid uj^on a fair bed. Then 
said he to the dame : " My lady, you have deceived me, unless 
you abide with me, for no one hath power to unmake this tower 
but you alone." She then promised that she would be often 
there, and in this she held her covenant with him. And Mer- 
lin never w^ent out of that tower where his Mistress Viviane 
had enclosed him ; but she entered and went out again when 
she listed. 

After this event Merlin was never more known to hold con- 
verse Avith any mortal but Viviane, except on one occasion. 
Arthur, having for some time missed him from his court, sent 
several of his knights in search of him, and among the num- 
ber Sir Gawain, who met with a very unpleasant adventure 
while engaged in this quest. Happening to pass a damsel on 
his road, and neglecting to salute her, she rcA^enged herself for 
his incivility by transforming him into a hideous dwarf. He 
was bewailing aloud his evil fortune as he went through the 
forest of Breceliande, when suddenly he heard the voice of one 
groaning on his right hand ; and, looking that way, he could see 
nothing save a kind of smoke, which seemed like air, and through 
which he could not j^ass. Merlin then addressed him from out 
the smoke, and told him by what misadventure he was impris- 
oned there. "Ah, sir ! " he added, " you will never see me 
more, and that grieves me, but I cannot remedy it ; I shall 
never more speak to you, nor to any other person, save only 
my mistress. " But do thou hasten to King Arthur, and charge 
him from me to undertake, without delay, the quest of the Sa- 
cred Graal. The knight is already born, and has received 
knighthood at his hands, who is destined to accomplish tliis 
quest." And after this he comforted Gawain under his trans- 
formation, assuring him that he should speedily be disen- 
chanted ; and he j^redicted to him that he should find the 
king at Carduel, in Wales, on his return, and that all the other 
knights who had been on like quest would arrive there the same 
day as himself. And all this came to pass as Merlin had said. 

Merlin is frequently introduced in the tales of chivalry, but 
it is chiefly on great occasions, and at a period subsequent to 



48 KING ARTHUR AND HIS KNIGHTS. 

his death, or magical disappearance. In the romantic poems of 
Italy, and in Spenser, Merlin is chiefly represented as a magi- 
cal artist. Spenser represents him as the artificer of the im- 
penetrable shield and other armor of Prince Arthm* (Faery 
Queene, Book I., Canto vii.), and of a mirror, in which a dam- 
sel viewed her lover's shade. The Fountain of Love, in the 
Orlando Innamorato, is described as his work ; and in the poem 
of Ariosto we are told of a hall adorned with prophetic paint- 
ings, which demons had executed in a single night, under the 
direction of Merlin. 

The following legend is from Spenser's Faery Queene (Book 
III., Canto iii.) : — 

CAEK-MERDIN, OR CAERMARTHEN (IX WALES), MERLIN's TOWER, AND THE 
IMPRISONED FIENDS. 

Forthwith themselves disguising- both, in straunge 
And base attire, that none might them bewray, 
To Maridunum, that is now by chaunge 
Of name Caer-Merdin called, they took their way : 
There the wise Merlin, whylome Avont (they say) 
To make his wonne, low underneath the ground 
In a deep delve, far from the view of day. 
That of no living Avight he mote be found, 
Whenso he counselled Avith his sprights encompassed round. 

And if thou ever happen that same Avay 
To travel, go to see that dreadful place ; 
It is a hideous hollow cave (they say) 
Under a rock that lies a little space. 
From the swift Barry, tombling down apace 
Amongst the Avoody hills of Dynevor ; 
But dare not thou, I charge, in any case, 
To enter into that same baleful boAver, 
For fear the cruel fiends should thee unwares devour. 

But standing high aloft, low lay thine ear, 
And there such ghastly noise of iron chains 
And brazen cauldrons thou shalt rumbling hear, 
Which thousand sprites with long enduring pains 
Do toss, that it Avill stun thy feeble brains ; 
And oftentimes great groans, and grievous stounds, 
When too huge toil and labor them constrains ; 
And oftentimes loud strokes and ringing sounds 
From under that deep rock most horribly rebounds. 



ARTHUR. 49 

The cause some say is this. A little while 
Before that Merlin died, he did intend 
A brazen wall in ccmpas to compile 
About Caermerdin, and did it commend 
Unto these sprites to bring to perfect end ; 
During which work the Lady of the Lake, 
Whom long he loved, for him in haste did send; 
Who, thereby forced his workmen to forsake. 
Them bound till his return their labor not to slack. 

In the mean time, through that false lady's train, 
He was surprised, and buried under beare,* 
Ne ever to his work returned again ; 
Natheless those fiends may not their work forbear, 
So greatly his commandement they fear ; 
But there do toil and travail day and night, 
Until that brazen wall they up do rear. 
For Merlin had in magic rdore insight 
Than ever him before or after livina- wight. 



GUENEVEE. 

" Leodogran, the King of Camehard, 

Had one fair daughter, and none other cliild. 
And she was fairest of all flesh on earth, 
Guenevere, and in her his one delight." 

Tennyson. 

Merlin had planned for Arthur a marriage with the daugh- 
of King Laodeganf of Carmalide. By his advice Arthur paid 
a visit to the court of that sovereign, attended only'by Merlin 
and by thirty-nine knights whom the magician had selected for 
that service. On their arrival they found Laodegan and his 
peers sitting in council, endeavoring, but with small prospect 
of success, to devise means for resisting the impending attack 
of Ryence, King of Ireland, who, with fifteen tributary kings 
and an almost innumerable army, had nearly surrounded the 
city. Merlin, who acted as leader of the band of British 
knights, announced them as strangers, who came to offer the 



* Buried under beare. Buried under something which enclosed him like a 
coffin or bier. 

t The spelling of these proper names is very often only a matter of taste. I 
think, however, Leodogran and Guenevere are less common than Laodegan and 
Guenever. 



50 KING ARTHUR AND HIS IvNIGHTS. 

king their services in his wars ; but under the exj^ress condi- 
tion that they should be at liberty to conceal their names and 
quality until they should think j^ roper to divulge them. These 
terms were thought very strange, but were thankfully accepted, 
and the strangers, after taking the usual oath to the king, re- 
tired to the lodging which Merlin had prepared for them. 

A few days after this, the enemy, regardless of a truce into 
which they had entered with King Laodegan, suddenly issued 
from their camp and made an attempt to surj^rise the city. 
Cleodalis, the king's general, assembled the royal forces with 
-all possible despatch. Arthur and his companions also flew to 
.arms, and Merlin appeared at their head, bearing a standard on 
which was emblazoned a terrific dragon. Merlin advanced to 
the gate, and commanded the porter to open it, which the por- 
ter refused to do, without the king's order. Merlin thereupon 
took up the gate, with all its appurtenances of locks, bars, and 
bolts, and directed his troop to pass through, after which he 
replaced it in perfect order. He tlien set spurs to his horse, and 
dashed, at the head of the little troop, into a body of two thou- 
sand Pagans. The disparity of numbers being so enormous. 
Merlin cast a spell upon the enemy, so as to prevent their see- 
ing the small number of their assailants ; notwithstanding 
which the British knights were hard pressed. But the people 
of the city, who saw from the walls this unequal contest, were 
ashamed of leaving the small body of strangers to their fate, 
so they opened the gate and sallied forth. The numbers were 
now more nearly equal, and Merlin revoked his spell, so that 
the two armies encountered on fair terms. Where Arthur, Ban, 
Bohort, and the rest fought, the king's army had the advantage ; 
but in another part of the field the king himself was surrounded 
and carried off by the enemy. This sad sight was seen by 
Guenever, the fair daughter of the king, who stood on the city 
wall and looked at the battle. She was in dreadful distress, 
tore her hair, and swooned away. 

But Merlin, aware of what passed in every part of the field, 
suddenly collected his knights, led them out of the battle, in- 
tercepted the passage of the party who were carrying away 
the king, charged them with irresistible impetuosity, cut in 



ARTHUE. 51 

pieces or dispersed the whole escort, and rescued the king. In 
the fight Arthur encountered Caulang, a giant fifteen feet high, 
and the fair Guenever, who akeady began to feel a strong in- 
terest in the handsome young stranger, trembled for the issue 
of the contest. But Arthur, dealing a dreadful blow on the 
shoulder of the monster, cut through his neck so that his head 
huno' over on one side, and in this condition his horse car- 
ried him about the field, to the great horror and dismay of 
the Pagans. Guenever coald not refrain from expressing 
aloud her wish that the gentle knight, who dealt with giants so 
dexterously, were destined to become her husband, and the 
wish was echoed by her attendants. The enemy soon turned 
their backs, and fled with precipitation, closely pursued by 
Laodegan and his allies. 

After the battle Arthur was disarmed and conducted to the 
bath by the Princess Guenever, while his friends were attended 
by the other ladies of the court. After the bath the knights 
were conducted to a magnificent entertainment, at which they 
were diligently served by the same fair attendants. Laode- 
gan, more and more anxious to know the name and quality of 
his generous deliverers, and occasionally forming a secret wish 
that the chief of his guests might be captivated by the charms 
of his daughter, appeared silent and pensive, and was scarcely 
roused from his reverie by the banter of his courtiers. Ar- 
thur, having had an opportunity of explaining to Guenever his 
great esteem for her merit, was in the joy of his heart, and was 
still further delighted by hearing from Merlin the late exploits 
of Gawain at London, by means of which his immediate return 
to his dominions was rendered unnecessary, and he was left at 
liberty to protract his stay at the court of Laodegan. Every 
day contributed to increase the admiration of the whole court 
for the gallant strangers, and the passion of Guenever for their 
chief ; and when at last Merlin announced to the king that the 
object of the visit of the party was to procure a bride for their 
leader, Laodegan at once presented Guenever to Arthur, telling 
him that, whatever might be his rank, his merit was suflicient 
to entitle him to the possession of the heiress of Carmalide. 
Arthur accepted the lady with the utmost gratitude, and Mer- 



52 KING ARTHUR AND HIS KNIGHTS. 

lin then proceeded to satisfy the king of the rank of his son- 
in-law ; ujDon which Laodegan, with all his barons, hastened to 
do homage to their lawful sovereign, the successor of Ilther 
Pendragon. The fair Guenever was then solemnly betrothed 
to Arthur, and a magnificent festival was proclaimed, which 
lasted seven days. At the end of that time, the enemy appear- 
ing again with renewed force, it became necessary to resume 
military operations.* 

We must now relate what took place at or near London 
while Arthur was absent from his capital. At this very time a 
band of young heroes were on their way to Arthur's court, for 
the purpose of receiving knighthood from him. They were 
Gawain and his three brothers, nephews of Arthur, sons of 
King Lot, and Galachin, another nephew, son of King Nanters. 
King Lot had been one of the rebel chiefs whom Arthur had 
defeated, but he now hoped by means of the young men to be 
reconciled to his brother-in-law. He equi23ped his sons and his 
nei^hew with the utmost magnificence, giving them a splendid 
retinue of young men, sons of earls and barons, all mounted 
on the best horses, with complete suits of choice armor. 
They numbered in all seven hundred, but only nine had yet 
received the order of knighthood ; the rest were candidates for 
that honor, and anxious to earn it by an early encounter with 
the enemy. Gawain, the leader, was a knight of wonderful 
strength ; but what was most remarkable about him was that 
his strength was greater at certain hours of the day than at 
others. From nine o'clock till nOon his strength was doubled, 
and so it was from three to even-song ; for the rest of the time 
it was less remarkable, though at all times surpassing that of 
ordinary men. 

After a march of three days they arrived in the vicinity of 
London, Avhere they expected to find Arthur and his court ; 
and very unexpectedly fell in with a large convoy belonging to 
the enemy, consisting of numerous carts and wagons, all loaded 

* Guenever, the name of Arthur's queen, also written Geuievre and Geneura, 
is familiar to all who are conversant with chivalric lore. It is to her adventures, 
and those of her true knig'ht. Sir Launcelot, that Dante alludes in the beautiful 
episode of Francesca da Rimini. 



ARTHUR. 53 

with provisions, and escorted by three thousand men, who had 
been collecting spoil from all the country round. A single 
charge from Gawain's impetuous cavalry was sufficient to dis- 
perse the escort and to recover the convoy, which was instantly 
despatched to London. But before long a body of seven thou- 
sand fresh soldiers advanced to the attack of the five princes 
and their little army. Gawain, singling out a chief named 
Choas, of gigantic size, began the battle by splitting him from 
the crown of the head to the breast. Galachin encountered 
King Sanagran, who was also very huge, and cut off his head. 
Agrivain and Gahariet also performed prodigies of valor. 
Thus they kept the great army of assailants at bay, though 
hard j^ressed, till of a sudden they perceived a strong body of 
the citizens advancing from London, where the convoy which 
had been recovered by Gawain had arrived, and informed the 
mayor and citizens of the danger of their deliverer. The arri- 
val of the Londoners soon decided the contest. The enemy 
fled in all directions, and Gawain and his friends, escorted by 
the grateful citizens, entered London, and were received with 
acclamations. 

After the great victory of Mount Badon, by which the Sax- 
ons were for the time effectually put down, Arthur turned his 
arms against the Scots and Picts, whom he routed at Lake 
Lomond, and compelled to sue for mercy. He then went to 
York to keep his Christmas, and employed himself in restoring 
the Christian churches which the Pagans had rifled and over- 
thrown. The following summer he conquered Ireland, and 
then made a voyage with his fleet to Iceland, which he also 
subdued. The kings of Gothland and of the Orkneys came vol- 
untarily and made their submission, promising to pay tribute. 
Then he returned to Britain, where, having established the 
kingdom, he dwelt twelve years in peace. 

During this time he invited over to him all persons whatso- 
ever that were famous for valor in foreign nations, and aug- 
mented the number of his domestics, and introduced such 
politeness into his court as people of the remotest countries 
thought worthy of their imitation. So that there was not a 
nobleman who thought himself of any consideration unless his 



54 KING ARTHUR AND HIS KNIGHTS. 

clothes and arms were made in the same fashion as those of 
Arthur's knights. 

Finding himself so powerful at home, Arthur began to form 
designs for extending his power abroad. So, having prepared 
his fleet, he first attempted Norway, that he might procure the 
crown of it for Lot, his sister's husband. Arthur landed in 
Norway, fought a great battle with the king of that country, 
defeated him, and pursued the victory till he had reduced the 
whole country under his dominion, and established Lot upon 
the throne. Then Arthur made a voyage to Gaul and laid 
siege to the city of Paris. Gaul was at that time a Roman 
province, and governed by Flollo, the Tribune. When the 
siege of Paris had continued a month, and the people began to 
suffer from famine, Flollo challenged Arthur to single combat, 
proposing to decide the conquest in that way. Arthur gladly 
accepted the challenge, and slew his adversary in the contest, 
upon which the citizens surrendered the city to him. After the 
victory Arthur divided his army into two j^ai'ts, one of Avhich 
he committed to the conduct of Hoel, whom he ordered to 
march into Aquitaine, while he with the other part should en- 
deavor to subdue the other provinces. At the end of nine 
years, in which time all the parts of Gaul were entirely reduced, 
Arthur returned to Paris, where he kept his court, and calling 
an assembly of the clergy and people, established peace and the 
just administration of the laws in that kingdom. Then he be- 
stowed Normandy upon Bedver, his butler, and the province 
of Andegavia upon Kay, his steward,* and several others upon 
his great men that attended him. And, having settled the 
jjeace of the cities and countries, he returned back in the be- 
o-innino- of surinc; to Britain. 

* This name, in. the French romances, is spelled Queux, which means head 
cook. This would seem to imply that it was a title, and not a name ; yet the per- 
sonage who bore it is never mentioned by any other. He is the chief, if not the 
only, comic character among the heroes of Arthur's court. He is the Seneschal 
or Steward, his duties also embracing those of chief of the cooks. In the ro- 
mances his general character is a compound of valor and bulFoonery, always ready 
to fight, and generally getting the worst of the battle. He is also sarcastic and 
abusive in his remarks, by which he often gets into trouble. Yet Arthur seems 
to have an attachment to him, and often takes his advice, which is generally 
wrong. 



ARTHUR. 55 

Upon the approach of the feast of Pentecost, Arthur, the bet- 
ter to demonstrate his joy after such triumphant successes, and 
for the more solemn observation of that festival, and reconciling 
the minds of the jjrinces that were now subject to him, resolved 
during that season to hold a magnificent court, to j)lace the 
crown upon his head, and to invite all the kings and dukes 
under his subjection to the solemnity. And he pitched upon 
Caerleon, the City of Legions, as the j^roj^er place for his pur- 
pose. For, besides its great Avealth above the other cities,* its 
situation upon the river Usk, near the Severn sea, was most 
pleasant and fit for so great a solemnity. For on one side it was 
washed by that noble river, so that the kings and princes from 
the countries beyond the seas might have the convenience of 
sailing up to it. On the other side the beauty of the meadows 
and groves, and magnificence of the royal palaces, with lofty 
gilded roofs that adorned it, made it even rival the grandeur 
of Rome. It was also famous for two churches, whereof one 
was adorned with a choir of virgins, who devoted themselves 
wholly to the service of God, and the other maintained a con- 
vent of priests. Besides, there was a college of two hundred 
philosophers, who, being learned in astronomy and the other 
arts, were diUgent in observing the courses of the stars, and 
gave Arthur true predictions of the events that would happen. 
In this place, therefore, which afforded such delights, were 
preparations made for the ensuing festival. 

* Several cities are allotted to King Arthur by the romance- writers. The prin- 
cipal are Caerleon, Camelot, and Carlisle. 

Caerleon derives its name from its having been the station of one of the legions 
during the dominion of the Romans. It is called by Latin writers Urbs Legio- 
num, the City of Legions, — the former word being rendered into Welsh by 
Caei-, meaning city, and the latter contracted into lleon. The river Usk retains 
its name in modern geography, and there is a town or city of Caerleon upon it, 
though the city of Cardiff is thought to be the scene of Arthur's court. Chester 
also bears the Welsh name of Caerleon ; for Chester, derived from castra, Latin 
for camp, is the designation of military headquarters. 

Camelot is thought to be Winchester. 

Shalottis Gu'ldford. \ 

Hamo's Port is Southampton. 

Carlisle is the city still retaining that name, near the Scottish border. But 
this name is also sometimes applied to other places, which were, like itself, mili- 
tarv stations. 



56 KING ARTHUR AND HIS KNIGHTS. 

Ambassadors were then sent into several kingdoms, to 
invite to court the princes both of Gaul and of the adjacent 
islands. Accordingly there came Augusel, king of Albania, 
now Scotland, Cadwallo, king of Yenedotia, now North Wales, 
Sater, kmg of Demetia, now South Wales; also the archbishops 
of the metropolitan sees, London and York, and Dubricius, 
bishop of Caerleon, the City of Legions. This prelate, who 
Avas primate of Britain, was so eminent for his piety that he 
could cure any sick j^erson by his prayers. There were also 
the counts of the principal cities, and many other worthies of 
no less dignity. 

From the adjacent islands came Guillamurius, king of Ire- 
land, Gunfasius, king of the Orkneys, Malvasius, king of Ice- 
land, Lot, king of Norway, Bedver the butler, Duke of Nor- 
mandy, Kay the sewer, Duke of Andegavia; also the twelve 
peers of Gaul, and Hoel, Duke of the Armorican Britons, with 
his nobility, who came with such a train of mules, horses, 
and rich furniture, as is difficult to describe. Besides these, 
there remained no prince of any consideration on this side of 
Spain who came not upon this invitation, and no wonder, when 
Arthur's munificence, which was celebrated over the whole 
world, made him beloved by all people. 

When all were assembled, upon the day of the solemnity, the 
archbishops were conducted to the palace in order to place the 
crown upon the king's head. Then Dubricius, inasmuch as the 
court was held in his diocese, made himself ready to celebrate 
the office. As soon as the king was invested, with his royal 
habiliments, he was conducted in great j^omp to the metropoli- 
tan church, having four kings, viz., of Albania, Cornwall, De- 
metia, and Yenedotia, bearing four golden swords before him. 
On another part was the queen, dressed out in her richest orna- 
ments, conducted by the archbishops and bishops to the Church 
of Yirgins ; the four queens, also, of the kings last men- 
tioned, bearing before her four white doves, according to an- 
cient custom. When the whole procession was ended, so 
transporting Avas the harmony of the musical instruments and 
voices, whereof there was a vast variety in both churches, that 
the knights who attended were in doubt which to prefer, and 



AETHUE. 57 

therefore crowded from one to the other by turns, and were 
far from being tired of the solemnity, though the whole day 
had been spent in it. At last, when divine service was over at 
both churches, the king and queen put off their crowns, and, 
putting on their lighter ornaments, went to the banquet. 
"When they had all taken their seats according to precedence, 
Kay the sewer, in rich robes of ermine, with a thousand young 
noblemen all in like manner clothed in rich attire, served u]) 
the dishes. From another j^art Bedver the butler was followed 
by the same number of attendants, who waited with all kinds 
of cups and drinking-vessels. And there was food and drink 
in abundance, and everything was of the best kind, and served 
in the best manner. For at that" time Britain had arrived at 
such a pitch of grandeur that in riches, luxury, and politeness 
it far surpassed all other kingdoms. 

As soon as the banquets were over they went into the fields 
without the city, to divert themselves with various sports, such 
as shooting with bows and arrows, tossing the jDike, casting of 
lieavy stones and rocks, inlaying at dice, and the like, and all 
these inoffensively, and without quarrelling. In this manner 
were three days spent, and after that they separated, and the 
kings and noblemen departed to their several homes. 

After this Arthur reigned five years in peace. Then came 
ambassadors from Lucius Tiberius, Procurator under Leo, Em- 
peror of Rome, demanding tribute. But Arthur refused to 
pay tribute, and prepared for war. As soon as the necessary 
dispositions were made, he committed the government of his 
kingdom to his ne^Dhew Modred and to Queen Guenever, and 
marched with his army to Hamo's Port, where the wind stood 
fair for him. The army crossed over in safety, and landed at 
the mouth of the river Barba. And there they pitched their 
tents to wait the arrival of the kings of the islands. 

As soon as all the forces were arrived, Arthur marched for- 
ward to Augustodunum, and encamped on the banks of the 
river Alba. Here repeated battles were fought, in all which 
the Britons, under their valiant leaders, Hoel, Duke of Armorica. 
and Gawain, nephew to Arthur, had the advantage. At length 
Lucius Tiberius determined to retreat, and wait for the Emperor 



58 KING ARTHUR AND HIS KNIGHTS. 

Leo to join him with fresh troops. But Arthur, anticipating 
this event, took possession of a certain valley, and closed up 
the way of retreat to Lucius, compelling him to fight a deci- 
sive battle, in which Arthur lost some of the bravest of his 
knights and most faithful followers. But on the other hand 
Lucius Tiberius was slain, and his army totally defeated. Tlie 
fugitives dispersed over the country, some to the by-ways and 
woods, some to the cities and towns, and all other places where 
they could hope for safety. 

Arthur stayed in those parts till the next winter was over, 
and employed his time in restoring order and settling the gov- 
ernment. He then returned into England, and celebrated his 
victories with great splendor. 

Then the king stablished all his knights, and to them that 
were not rich he gave lands, and charged them all never to do 
outrage nor murder, and always to flee treason ; also, by no 
means to be cruel, but to give mercy unto him that asked 
mercy, upon pain of forfeiture of their worship -and lordship; 
and ahvays to do ladies, damosels, and gentlewomen service, 
upon pain of death. Also that no man take battle in a wrong- 
ful quarrel, for no law, nor for any world's goods. Unto this 
were all the knights sworn of the Table Round, both old and 
young. And at evei-y year were they sworn at the high feast 
of Pentecost. 

King Arthuk Slays the Giant of St. Michael's Mount. 

While the army was encamped in Brittany, awaiting the ar- 
rival of the kings, there came a countryman to Arthur, and 
told him that a giant, whose cave was in a neighboring moun- 
tain, called St. Michael's Mount, had for a long time been ac- 
customed to carry off the children of the peasants, to devour 
them. "And now he hath taken the Duchess of Brittany, as 
she rode with her attendants, and hath carried her away in 
spite of all they could do." " Now, fellow," said King Arthur, 
"canst thou bring me there where this giant haunteth?" 
"Yea, sure," said the good man ; "lo, yonder where thou seest 
two oTcat fires, there shalt thou find him, and more treasure 



ARTHUR. 59 

than I suppose is in all France beside." Then the king called 
to him Sir Bedver and Sir Kay, and commanded them to make 
ready horse and harness for himself and them ; for after even- 
ing he would ride on pilgrimage to St. Michael's Mount. 

So they three departed, and rode forth till they came to the 
foot of the mount. And there the king commanded them to 
tarry, for he would himself go up into that mount. So he 
ascended the hill till he came to a great fire, and there he found 
an aged woman sitting by a new-made grave, making great 
sorrow. Then King Arthur saluted her, and demanded of her 
wherefore she made such lamentation ; to whom she answered : 
" Sir Knight, speak low, for yonder is a devil, and if he hear 
thee speak he will come and destroy thee. For ye cannot 
make resistance to him, he is so fierce and so strong. He hath 
murdered the Duchess, which here lieth, who was the fairest of 
all the world, wife to Sir Hoel, Duke of Brittany." " Dame," 
said the king, " I come from the noble conqueror, King Arthur, 
to treat with that tyrant." " Fie on sucli treaties," said she ; 
" he setteth not by the king, nor by no man else." " Well," 
said Arthur, " I will accomplish my message for all your fear- 
ful words." So he went forth by the crest of the hill, and saw 
where the giant sat at supper, gnawing on the limb of a man, 
and baking his broad limbs at the fire, and three fair damsels 
lying bound, whose- lot it was to be devoured in their turn. 
When King Arthur beheld that he had great compassion on 
them, so that his heart bled for sorrow. Then he hailed the 
giant, saying, " He that all the world ruleth give thee short 
life and shameful death. Why hast thou murdered this Ducli- 
ess ? Therefore come forth, thou caitiff, for this day thou shalt 
die by my hand." Then the giant started up, and took a great 
club, and smote at the king, and smote off his coronal ; and 
then the king struck him in the belly with his sword, and made 
a fearful wound. Then the giant threw away his club, and 
caught the king in his arms, so that he crushed his ribs. Then 
the three maidens kneeled down and prayed for help and com- 
fort for Arthur. And Artliur weltered and wrenched, so that 
he was one while under, and another time above. And so wel- 
tering and wallowing they rolled down the hill, and ever as 



60 KING ARTHUR AND HIS KNIGHTS. 

they weltered Arthur smote him with his dagger ; and it for- 
tuned they came to the place where the two knights were. 
And when they saAv the king fast in the giant's arms they came 
and loosed him. Then the king commanded Sir Kay to smite 
off the giant's head, and to set it on the truncheon of a spear, 
and fix it on the barbican, that all the people might see and 
behold it. This was done,- and anon it was known through all 
the country, wherefor the peo|)le came and thanked the king. 
And he said, " Give your thanks to God ; and take ye the giant's 
spoil and divide it among you." And King Arthur caused a 
church to be builded on that hill, in honor of St. Michael. 

King Arthur gets a Sword from the Lady of the Lake. 

One day King Arthur rode forth, and on a sudden he was 
ware of three churls chasing Merlin to have slain him. And 
the king rode unto them and bade them, " Flee, churls ! " 
Then were they afraid when they saw a knight, and fled. " O 
Merlin," said Arthur, " here hadst thou been slain, for all thy 
crafts, had I not been by." " Nay," said Merlin, " not so, for 
I could save myself if I would ; but thou art more near thy 
death than I am." So, as they went thus talking. King Ar- 
thur perceived where sat a knight on horseback, as if to guard 
the pass. " Sir knight," said Arthur, " for what cause abidest 
thou here?" Then the knight said, "There may no knight 
ride this way unless he joust with me, for such is the custom of 
the pass." "I will amend that custom," said the king. Then 
they ran together, and they met so hard that their spears were 
shivered. Then they drew their swords and fought a strong 
battle, with many great strokes. But at length the sword of 
the knight smote King Arthur's sword in two pieces. Then 
said the knight unto Arthur, " Thou art in my power, whether 
to save thee or slay thee, and unless thou yield thee as over- 
come and recreant thou shalt die." " As for death," said King 
Arthur, "welcome be it when it cometh ; but to yield me unto 
thee as recreant I will not." Then he leapt upon the knight, 
and took him by the middle and threw him down ; but the 
knight was a passing strong man, and anon he brought Arthur 



ARTHUR. 61 

under him, and would have razed off his hehn to slay him. 
Then said Merlin, " Knight, hold thy hand, for this knight is a 
man of more worship than thou art aware of," " Why, who 
is he ? " said the knight. " It is King Arthur." Then would 
he have slain him for dread of his wrath, and lifted up his 
sword to slay him ; and therewith Merlin cast an enchantment 
on the knight, so that he fell to the earth in a great sleep. 
Then Merlin took up King Arthur and set him on his horse. 
'.'Alas ! " said Arthur, " what hast thou done. Merlin ? hast thou 
slain this good knight by thy crafts ? " " Care ye not," said 
Merlin ; " he is wholer than ye be. He is only asleep, and will 
wake in three hours." 

Right so the king and he departed, and went unto an hermit 
that was a good man and a great leech. So the hermit searched 
all his wounds and gave him good salves ; so the king was there 
three days, and then were his wounds well amended that he 
might ride and go, and so departed. And as they rode Arthur 
said, "I have no sword." "No force," said Merlin ; "hereby 
is a sword that shall be yours." So they rode till they came to 
a lake, the which was a fair water and broad, and in the midst 
of the lake Arthur was ware of an arm clothed in white samite, 
that held a fair sword in that hand. " So," said Merlin, " yon- 
der is that sword that I spake of." With that they saw a 
damsel going upon the lake. " What damsel is that ? " said 
Arthur. " That is the Lady of the Lake," said Merlin ; " and 
within that lake is a rock, and therein is as fair a place as any 
on earth, and richly beseen, and this damsel will come to you 
anon, and then speak ye fair to her and she will give thee that 
sword." Anon withal came the damsel unto Arthur and 
saluted him, and he her again. " Damsel," said Arthur, " what 
sword is that that yonder the arm holdeth above the waves ? 
I would it were mine, for I have no sword." " Sir Arthur 
king," said the damsel, "that sword is mine, and if ye will give 
me a gift when I ask it you ye shall have it." " By my faith," 
said Arthur, " I will give ye what gift ye shall ask." " Well," 
said the damsel, " go you into yonder barge and row yourself to 
the sword, and take it and the scabbard with you, and I will 
ask my gift when I see my time." So Arthur and Merlin 



62 KING ARTHUR AND HIS KNIGHTS. 

alighted, and tied their horses to two trees, and so they went 
into the ship, and when they came to the sword that the hand 
held, Arthur took it by the handles, and took it with him. And 
the arm and the hand went under the water. 

Then they returned unto the land and rode forth. And Sir 
Arthur looked on the sword and liked it right well. 

So they rode unto Caerleon, whereof his knights were pass- 
ing glad. And when they heard of his adventures they mar- 
velled that he would jeopard his person so alone. But all men 
of worship said it was a fine thing to be under such a chieftain 
as would put his person in adventure as other poor knights 
did. 



m^^i^m 




CHAPTER IV, 



CARADOC BRIEFBRAS; OR, CARADOC WITH THE SHRUXKEX 

ARM. 



CARADOC was the son of Ysenne, the beautiful niece of 
Arthur. He was ignorant who his father was, till it was 
discovered in the following manner : When the youth was of 
l)roper years to receive the honors of knighthood, King Arthur 
held a grand court for the purpose of knighting him. On this 
occasion a strange knight presented himself, and challenged 
the knio'hts of Arthur's court to exchano-e blow for blow with 
him. His proposal was this, — to lay his neck on a block for 
any knight to strike, on condition that, if he survived the 
blow, the knight should submit in turn to the same experi- 
ment. Sir Kay, who was usually ready to accept all challenges, 
pronounced this wholly unreasonable, and declared that he 
would not accept it for all the wealth in the world. And when 
the knight offered his sword, with which the operation was to 
be performed, no person ventured to accept it, till Caradoc, 
growing angry at the disgrace which was thus incurred by the 
Round Table, threw aside his mantle and took it. "Do you 

63 



64 KING ARTHUR AND HIS KNIGHTS. 

do this as one of the best knights ? " said the stranger. " No," 
he replied, "but as one of the most foolish." The stranger 
lays his head upon the block, receives a blow which sends it 
rolling from his shoulders, walks after it, picks it up, replaces 
it w^ith great success, and says he will return when the court 
shall be assembled next year, and claim his turn. When the 
anniversary arrived both parties were punctual to their engage- 
ment. Great entreaties were used by the king and queen, and 
the whole court, in behalf of Caradoc, but the stranger w^as in- 
flexible. The young knight laid his head upon the block, and 
more than once desired him to make an end of the business, 
and not keep him longer in so disagreeable a state of expecta- 
tion. At last the stranger strikes him gently with the side of 
the sword, bids him rise, and reveals to him the fact that he is 
his father, the enchanter Eliaures, and that he gladly owns him 
for a son, having proved his courage, and fidelity to his word. 

But the favor of enchanters is short-lived and uncertain. 
Eliaures fell under the influence of a wicked woman, who, to 
satisfy her pique against Caradoc, persuaded the enchanter to 
fasten on his arm a serpent, which remained there sucking 
at his flesh and blood, no human skill sufiicing either to remove 
the reptile or alleviate the torments which Caradoc endured. 

Caradoc was betrothed to Guimier, sister to his bosom friend 
Cador, and daughter to the king of Cornwall. As soon as they 
were informed of his deplorable condition, they set out for Nan- 
tes, where Caradoc's castle was, that Guimier might attend 
upon him. When Caradoc heard of their coming his first 
emotion was that of joy and love. But soon he began to fear 
that the sight of his emaciated form and of his sufferings 
would disgust "Guimier; and this appreliension became so 
strong that he departed secretly from Nantes, and hid himself 
in a hermitage. He was sought far and near by the knights of 
Arthur's court, and Cador made a vow never to desist from 
the quest till he should have found him. After long wander- 
ing, Cador discovered his friend in the hermitage, reduced al- 
most to a skeleton, and apparently near his death. All other 
means of relief having already been tried in vain, Cador at 
la:«t prevailed on the enchanter Eliaures to disclose the only 



J 



CARADOC BRIEFBRAS. bO 

method which could avail for his rescue. A maiden must be 
found, his equal in birth and beauty, and loving him better 
than herself, so that she would expose herself to the same 
torment to deliver him. Two vessels were then to be provided, 
the one filled with so'ur wine and the other with milk. Cara- 
doc must enter the first, so that the wine should reach his 
neck, and the maiden must get into the other, and, exposing 
her bosom upon the edge of the vessel, invite the serpent to 
forsake the withered flesh of his victim for this fresh and in- 
viting food. The vessels were to be placed three feet apart, 
and as the serpent crossed from one to the other a knight was 
to cut him in two. If he failed in his blow, Caradoc would 
indeed be delivered, but it would only be to see his fair cham- 
pion sufiPering the same cruel and hopeless torment. The 
sequel may be easily foreseen. Guimier willingly exjDosed her- 
self to the perilous adventure, and Cador, with a lucky blow, 
killed the serpent. The arm, in which Caradoc had suffered so 
long, recovered its strength, but not its shape, in consequence 
of which he Avas called Caradoc Briefbras, Caradoc of the 
Shrunken Arm. 

Caradoc and Guimier are the hero and heroine of the ballad 
of the Boy and the Mantle, which follows. 

THE BOY AND THE MANTLE. 

In Carlisle dwelt King' Arthur, 

A prince of passing- might, 
And there maintained his Table J 

Beset with many a knight. 

And there he kept his Christmas, 

AVith mirth and princely cheer, 
When lo ! a strange and canning boy 

Before him did appeai\ 

A kirtle and a mantle 

This boy had him upon, 
With brooches, rings, and ouches, 

Full daintily bedone. 

He had a sash of silk 

About his middle meet ; 
And thus with seemly cnrtesie 

He did King Arthur greet • 



QQ KING ARTHUR AND HIS IvNIGHTS. 

" God speed thee, brave King Arthur, 
Thus feasting in thy bower. 

And Guenever, th}^ goodly queen, 
Tliat fair and peerless flower. 

" Ye gallant lords and lordlings, 

I wish you all take heed. 
Lest what ye deem a blooming rose 

Should prove a cankered weed." 

Then straightway from his bosom 

A little wand he drew ; 
And with it eke a mantle. 

Of wondrous shape and hue. 

" Now have thou here, King Arthur, 

Have this here of me. 
And give unto thy comely queen, 

All shapen as you see. 

"No wife it shall become, 
That once hath been to blame." 

Then every knight in Arthur's court 
Sly glanced at his dame. 

And first came Lady Guenever, 

The mantle she must try. 
This dame she was new-fangled, 

And of a roving eye. 

"When she had taken the mantle. 

And all with it was clad, 
Prom top to toe it shivered down. 

As though with shears beshred. 

One while it was too long. 

Another while too short, 
And wrinkled on the shoulders, 

In most unseemly sort. 

Now green, now red it seemed, 

Then all of sable hue ; 
" Beshrew me," quoth King Arthur, 

" I think thou be'st not true ! " 

Down she threw the mantle. 
No longer would she stay ; 

But, storming like a fury. 
To her chamber flung away. 

* New-fangled, — fond of novelty. 



CARADOC BKIEFBRAS. 67 



She cursed the rascal weaver, 
That had the mantle wrought ; 

And doubly cursed the froward imp 
Who thither had it brought. 

"I had rather live in deserts, 

Beneath the greenwood tree, 
Than here, base king, among thy grooms, 

The sport of them and thee." 

Sir Kay called forth his lady. 

And bade her to come, near : 
"Yet, dame, if thou be guilty, 

I pray thee now forbear." 

This lady, pertly giggling, 

With forward step came on. 
And boldly to the little boy 

With fearless face is gone. 

When she had taken the mantle, 

With purpose for to wear, 
It shrunk up to her shoulder, 

And left her back all bare. 

Then every merry knight, 

That was in Arthur's court. 
Gibed and laughed and ilouted, 

To see that pleasant sport. 

Down she threw the mantle. 

No longer bold or gay. 
But, with a face all pale and wan, 

To hei' chamber slunk away. 

Then forth came an old knight 

A-pattering o'er his creed. 
And proffered to the little boy 

Five nobles to his meed : 

*' And all the time of Christmas 

Plum-porridge shall be thine. 
If thou wilt let my lady fair 

Within the mantle shine." 

A saint his lady seemed. 

With step demure and slow. 
And gravely to the mantle 

With mincing face doth ffo. 



68 KING ARTHUR AND HIS KNIGHTS. 



When she the same had taken 
That was so fine and thin, 

It shrivelled all about her, 
And showed her dainty skin. 

Ah ! little did her mincing. 
Or his long praj^ers bestead; 

She had no more hung on her 
Than a tassel and a thread. 

Down she threw the mantle, 

With terror and dismay, 
And with a face of scarlet 

To her chamber hied away. 

Sir Cradock called his lady. 
And bade her to come near; 

" Come win this mantle, lady, 
And do me credit here : 

*' Come win this mantle, lady, 

For now it shall be thine. 
If thou hast never done amiss. 

Since first I made thee mine." 

The lady, gently blushing. 
With modest grace came on ; 

And now to try the wondrous charm 
Courageously is gone. 

When she had ta'en the mantle. 

And put it on her back. 
About the hem it seemed 

To wrinlde and to crack. 

"Lie still," she cried, "0 mantle! 

And shame me not for naught ; 
I '11 freely own whate'er amiss 

Or blameful I have wrought. 

" Once I kissed Sir Cradock 
Beneath the greenwood tree ; 

Once I kissed Sir Cradock's mouth, 
Before he married me." 

When she had thus her shriven, 
And her worst fault had told, 

The mantle soon became her, 
Right comely as it should. 



CARADOC BRIEFBRAS. 69 

Most rich and fair of color, 

Like gold it g-littering- shone, 
And much the knights in Arthur's court 

Admired her every one. 

The ballad goes on to tell of two more trials of a similar 
kind, made by means of a boar's head and a drinking-horn, in 
both of which the result was equally favorable with the first 
to Sir Cradock and his lady. It then concludes as follows : — 

Thus boar's head, horn, and mantle 

Were this fair couple's meed ; 
And all such constant lovers, 

God send them well to speed. 

Percy's Reliques. 




^ .V 



CHAPTER V. 

SIR GAWAIN. 

SIR GAWAIN was nephew to King Arthur, by his sister 
Morgana, married to Lot, king of Orkney, who was by 
Arthur made king of x^orway. Sir Gawain was one of the 
most famous knights of the Round Table, and is characterized 
by the romancers as the sage and courteous Gawain. To tliis 
Chaucer aUudes in his " Squiere's Tale," where the strange 
knight " saluteth " all the court — 

" With so high reverence and observance, 
As well in speeche as in countenance, 
That Gawain, with his okle curtesie, 
Though he were come agen out of faerie, 
Xe coude him not amenden with a word." 

Gawain's brothers were Agravain, Gaharet, and Gareth. 



Sir Gawain's Marriage. 



Once upon a time King Arthur held his court in merry 
Carlisle, when a damsel came before him and craved a boon. 

70 



SIR GAWAIX. 71 

It was for vengeance upon a caitiff knight, who had made her 
lover captive and despoiled her of her lands. King Arthur 
commanded to bring him his sword, Excalibar, and to saddle 
his steed, and rode forth without delay to right the lady's 
wrono'. Ere long he reached the castle of the grim baron, and 
challenged him to the conflict. But the castle stood on magic 
ground, and the spell was such that no knight could tread 
thereon but straight his courage fell and his strength decayed. 
King Arthur felt the charm, and before a blow was struck his 
sturdy limbs lost their strength, aind his head grew faint. He 
was fain to yield himself prisoner to the churlish knight, who 
refused to release him except upon condition that he should 
return at the end of a year, and bring a true answer to the 
question, "What thing is it which women most desire?" or in 
default thereof surrender himself and his lands. King Arthur 
accepted the terms, and gave his oath to return at the time ap- 
pointed. During the year the king rode east, and he rode west, 
and inquired of all whom he met what thing it is which all 
women most desire. Some told him riches; some pomp and 
state ; some mirth ; some flattery ; and some a gallant knight. 
But in the diversity of answers he could find no sure depend- 
ence. The year was well nigh spent when, one day, as he rode 
thoughtfully through a forest, he saw sitting beneath a tree a 
lady of such hideous aspect that he turned away his eyes, and 
when she greeted him in seemly sort made no answer. " What 
wight art thou," the lady said, " that will not speak to me ? 
It may chance that I may resolve thy doubts, though I be not 
fair of aspect." "If thou wilt do so," said King Arthur, 
"choose w^hat reward thou wilt, thou grim lady, and it shall be 
^iven thee." "Swear me this upon thy faith," she said, and 
Arthur swore it. Then the lady told him the secret, and de- 
manded her reward, which was that the king should find some 
fair and courtly knight to be her husband. 

King Arthur hastened to the grim baron's castle and told 
him one by one all the answers which he had received from his 
various advisers, except the last, and not one was admitted as 
the true one. " Xow yield thee, Arthur," the giant said, " for 
thou hast not paid thy ransom, and thou and thy lands are for- 
feited to me." Then King Arthur said : — 



72 KIJsG ARTHUE AND HIS KNIGHTS. 

" Yet hold thy hand, thou proud baron, 

I pray thee hold thy hand. 
And give me leave to speak once more, 

In rescue of my land. 
This morn, as I came over a moor, 

I saw a lady set, 
Between an oak and a green holly, 

All clad in red Scarlett. 
She says all tcomen tcouldhave their toill, 

This is their chief desire ; 
Now yield, as thou art a baron true, 

That I have paid my hire." 

" It was ray sister that told thee this," the churlish baron 
exclaimed. " Yenoeance ligjht on lier ! I will some time or 
other do her as ill a turn." 

King Arthur rode homeward, but not light of heart ; for he 
remembered the promise he was under to the loathly lady to 
give her one of his young and gallant knights for a husband. 
He told his grief to Sir Gawain, his nephew, and he replied, 
"Be not sad, my lord, for I will marry the loathly lady." 
King Arthur re])lied : — 

" Now nay, now nay, good Sir Gawaine, 
]\Iy sister's son ye be ; 
The loathly lad}- 's all too grim, 
And all too foule for thee." 

But Gawain j^ersisted, and the king at last, with sorrow of 
heart, consented that Gawain should be his ransom. So, one 
day, the king and his knights rode to the forest, met the loathly 
lady, and brought her to the court. Sir Gawain stood the 
scoffs and jeers of his companions as he best might, and the 
marriage was solemnized, but not with the usual festivities. 
Chaucer tells us : — 

" There was no joye, ne feste at alle ; ^T| 

There n'as but hevinesse and mochcl sorwe, 
For prively he wed her on the morwc, 
And all day after hid him as an owle , 
So wo was him his wife loked so foule ! " * 

When night came, and they were alone together. Sir Gawain 
could not conceal his aversion ; and the lady asked him why 

* N'as is not tvas, contracted ; in modern phrase, there was not. Mochel sorice, 
is vit(ch sorrow ; morioe is morrotv. 



SIR GA^VAIX. 7d 

he sighed so heavily, and turned away his face. He candidly 
confessed it was on account of three tilings, her age, her ugli- 
ness, and her low degree. The lady, not at all offended, rej^lied 
with excellent arguments to all his objections. Slie sliowed 
him that with age is discretion, with ugliness security from 
rivals, and that all true gentility dej^enc Is, not upon the acci- 
dent of birth, but upon the character of the individual. 

Sir Gawain made no reply ; but, turning his eyes on his 
bride, what was his amazement to perceive that she wore no 
longer the unseemly asjDect that had so distressed him. She 
then told him that the form she had worn w^as not her true 
form, but a disguise imposed upon her by a wicked enchanter, 
and that she was condemned to wear it until two things should 
happen ; one, that she should obtain some young and gallant 
knight to be her husband. This having been done, one half of 
the charm was removed. She was now at liberty to wear her 
true form for half the time, and she bade him choose whether 
he would have lier fair by day and ugly by night, or the reverse. 
Sir Gawain would fain have had her look her best by night, 
when he alone should see her, and show her repulsive visage, 
if at all, to others. But slie reminded him how much more 
pleasant it w^ould be to her to wear her best looks in the throng 
of knights and ladies by day. Sir Gawain yielded, and gave 
up his will to hers. This alone was wanting to dissolve the' 
charm. The lovely lady now with joy assured him that she 
should change no more ; but as she now was so would she re- 
main by night as well as by day. 

" Sweet blushes stavned her rucl-red cheek, 
Her even were black as sloe, 
^ The ripening cherrye swelled her lippe. 

1^ And all her neck was snow. 

Sir Gawain kist that ladye faire 

Lying upon the sheete. 
And swore, as he was a true knight, 
The spice was never so swete." 

The dissolution of the charm which had held the lady also 
released her brother, the " grim baron," for he too had been 
implicated in it. He ceased to be a churlish ojDpressor, and 
became a gallant and generous knight as any at Arthur's court. 




lAUMcelol- OF 

THE Lake 



CHAPTER VI. 



LAUNCELOT OF THE LAKE. 



KING BAN, of Brittany, the faithful ally of Arthur, was 
attacked by his enemy Claudas, and, after a long war, saw 
himself reduced to the possession of a single fortress, where 
he Av^as besieged by his enemy. In this extremity he deter- 
mined to solicit the assistance of Arthur, and escaped in a dark 
night, with his wife Helen and his infant son Launcelot, leav- 
ing his castle in tlie hands of his seneschal, who immediately 
surrendered the place to Claudas. The flames of his burning 
citadel reached the eyes of the unfortunate monarch during 
liis flight, and he expired with grief. The wretched Helen, 
leaving her child on the brink of a lake, flew to receive the 
last sighs of her husband, and on returning perceived the little 
Launcelot in the arms of a nymph, who, on the approach of 
the queen, threw herself into the lake with the child. This 
nymph was Viviane, mistress of the enchanter Merlin, better 
known by the name of the Lady of the Lake. Launcelot re- 
ceived his appellation from having been educated at the court 
74 



LAUNCELOT OF THE LAKE. 75 

of this enchantress, whose j^alace was situated in the midst, not 
of a real, but, like the appearance which deceives the African 
traveller, of an imaginary lake, whose deluding resemblance 
served as a barrier to her residence. Here she dwelt not alone, 
but in the midst of a numerous retinue, and a si^lendid court 
of knights and damsels. 

The queen, after her double loss, retired to a convent, where 
she was joined by the widow of Bohort, for this good king- 
had died of grief on hearing of the death of his brother Ban. 
His two sons, Lionel and Bohort, were rescued by a faithful 
knight, and arrived in the shape of greyhounds at the palace 
of the lake, where, having resumed their natural form, they 
were educated along with their cousin Launcelot. 

The fairy, when her pupil had attained the age of eighteen, 
conveyed him to the court of Arthur, for the j)ur230se of de- 
manding his admission to the honor of knighthood ; and at the 
first appearance of the youthful candidate the graces of his 
person, which were not inferior to his courage and skill in 
arms, made an instantaneous and indelible impression on the 
heart of Guenever, while lier charms inspired him with an 
equally ardent and constant passion. The mutual attachment 
of these lovers exerted, from that time forth, an influence over 
the whole history of Arthur. For the sake of Guenever Launce- 
lot achieved the conquest of :N'orthumberland, defeated Gallehaut, 
King of the Marches, who afterwards became his most faithful 
friend and ally, exposed himself in numberless encounters, and 
brought hosts of prisoners to the feet of his sovereign. 

After King Arthur was come from Rome into England all 
the knights of the Table Round resorted unto him, and made 
him many jousts and tournaments. And in especial Sir Launce- 
lot of the Lake, in all tournaments and jousts and deeds of 
arms, both for life and death, passed all other knights, and was 
never overcome, except it were by treason or enchantment ; 
and he increased marvellously in worship, wherefore Queen 
Guenever had him in great favor, above all other knights. 
And for certain he loved the queen again above all other 
ladies ; and for her he did many deeds of arms, and saved her 
from peril throuo-h his noble chivalry. Thus Sir Launcelot 



76 KING AETHUR AND HIS KNIGHTS. 

rested him long with piay and game, and then he thought to 
l^rove himself in strange adventures ; so he bade his nephew, 
Sir Lionel, to make him ready, — " for we two will seek adven- 
tures." So they mounted on their horses, armed at all sights, 
and rode into a forest, and so into a deep plain. And the 
weather was hot about noon, and Sir Launcelot had great de- 
sire to sleep. Then Sir Lionel espied a great apple-tree that 
stood by a hedge, and he said : " Brother, yonder is a fair 
shadow, — there may we rest us and our horses." " It is well 
said," rej^lied Sir Launcelot. So they there alighted, and Sir 
Launcelot laid him down, and his helm under his head, and 
soon was asleep passing fast. And Sir Lionel waked while he 
slept. And presently there came three knights riding as fast 
as ever they might ride, and there followed them but one 
knight. And Sir Lionel thought he never saw so great a knight 
before. So within a while this great knight overtook one of 
those knights, and smote him so that he fell to the earth. Then 
he rode to the second knight and smote him, and so he did to 
the third knight. Then he alighted down, and bound all the 
three knights fast with their own bridles. When Sir Lionel 
saw him do thus he thought to assay him, and made him 
ready, silently, not to awake Sir Launcelot, and rode after the 
strong knight, and bade him turn. And the other smote Sir 
Lionel so hard that horse and man fell to the earth ; and then 
he alighted down, and bound Sir Lionel, and threw him across 
his own horse ; and so he served them all four, and rode with 
them away to his own castle. And when he came there, he 
put them in a deep prison, in which were many more knights 
in great distress. 

Now while Sir Launcelot lay under the apple-tree sleeping 
there came by him four queens of great estate. And that the 
heat should not grieve them, there rode four knights about 
them, and bare a cloth of green silk, on four spears, betwixt 
them and the sun. And the queens rode on four white 
mules. 

Thus as they rode they heard by them a great horse grimly 
neigh. Then they were aware of a sleeping knight, that lay 
all armed under an apple-tree ; and as the queens looked on 



LAUNCELOT OF THE LAKE. 77 

his face they knew it was Sir Launcelot. Then they began to 
strive for that knight, and each one said she would have him 
for her love. " We will not strive," said Morgane le Fay, that 
was King Arthur's sister, " for I will put an enchantment upon 
him, that he shall not wake for six hours, and we will take him 
away to my castle; and then when he is surely within my hold 
I will take the enchantment from him, and then let him choose 
which of us he will have for his love." So the enchantment 
was cast upon Sir Launcelot. And then they laid him upon 
his shield, and bare him so on horseback between two knights, 
and brought him unto the castle and laid him in a chamber, 
and at night they sent him his supper. 

And on the morning came early those four queens, richly 
dight, and bade him good morning, and he them again. " Sir 
knight," they said, "thou must understand that thou art our 
prisoner ; and we know thee well, that thou art Sir Launcelot 
of the Lake, King Ban's son, and that thou art the noblest 
knight living. And we know well that there can no lady have 
tliy love but one, and that is Queen Guenever ; and now thou 
shalt lose her forever, and she thee ; and therefore it behooveth 
thee now to choose one of us. I am the Queen Morgane le Fay, 
and here is the Queen of North Wales, and the Queen of East- 
land, and the Queen of the Isles. Now choose one of us which 
thou wilt have, for if thou choose not in this prison thou shalt 
die." " This is a hard case," said Sir Launcelot, " that either I 
must die or else choose one of you ; yet had I liever to die in 
this prison with worship than to have one of you for my j^ara- 
mour, for ye be false enchantresses." " Well," said the queens, 
" is this your answ^er, that ye will refuse us ? " " Yea, on my 
life it is," said Sir Launcelot. Then they departed, making 
great sorrow. 

Then at noon came a damsel unto him with his dinner, and 
asked him, " What cheer?" "Truly, fair damsel," said Sir 
Launcelot, "never so ill." "Sir," said she, "if you will be 
ruled by me, I will help you out of this distress. If ye will 
promise me to help my father on Tuesday next, who hath made 
a tournament betwixt him and the king of North Wales ; for 
the last Tuesday my father lost the field." "Fair maiden," 



78 KING ARTHUR AND HIS KNIGHTS. 

said Sir Launcelot, " tell me what is your father's name, and 
then will I give you an answer." " Sir knight," she said " my 
father is King Bagdemagus." "I know him well," said Sir 
Launcelot, " for a noble king and a good knight, and, by the 
faith of my body, I will be ready to do your father and you 
service at that day." 

So she departed, and came on the next morning early and 
found him ready, and brought him out of twelve locks, and 
brought him to his own horse, and lightly he saddled him, and 
so rode forth. 

And on the Tuesday next he came to a little wood where the 
tournament should be. And there were scaffolds and holds, 
that lords and ladies might look on. and give the j^rize. Then 
came into the field the king of North Wales, witli eightscore 
helms, and King Bagdemagus came with fourscore helms. 
And then they couched their spears, and came together with a 
great dash, and there were overthrown at the first encounter 
twelve of King Bagdemagus's party and six of the king of 
North Wales's party, and King Bagdemagus's party had the 
worse. 

With that came Sir Launcelot of the Lake, and thrust in 
with his spear in the thickest of the press ; and he smote down 
five knights ere he held his hand ; and he smote dow^n the king 
of North Wales, and lie brake his thigh in that fall. And then 
the knights of the king of North Wales would joust no more ; 
and so the gree was given to King Bagdemagus. 

And Sir Launcelot rode forth with King Bagdemagus unto 
his castle; and there he had passing good cheer, both with the 
king and with his daughter. And on the morn he took his 
leave, and told the king he Avould go and seek his brother, Sir 
Lionel, that went from him when he slept. So he departed, 
and by adventure he came to the same forest where he was 
taken sleeping. And in the highway he met a damsel riding 
on a white palfrey, and they saluted each other. " Fair damsel," 
said Sir Launcelot, "know ye in this country any adven- 
tures ?" " Sir knight," said the damsel, "here are adventures 
near at hand, if tliou durst pursue them." " Why should I 
not prove adventures?" said Sir Launcelot, "since for that 



LAUXCELOT OF THE LAKE. 79 

came I hither." " Sir," said she, " hereby dwelleth a knight 
that will not be overmatched for any man I know, except thou 
overmatch him. His name is Sir Turquine, and, as I under- 
stand, he is a deadly enemy of King Arthur, and he has in his 
prison good knights of Arthur's .court threescore and more, 
that he hath won with his own hands." "Damsel," said Launce- 
lot, "I pray you bring me unto this knight." So she told him, 
" Hereby, within this mile, is his castle, and by it on the left 
hand is a ford for horses to drink of, and over that ford there 
groweth a fair tree, and on that tree hang many shields 
that good knights wielded aforetime, that are now prisoners : 
and on the tree hangeth a basin of copper and latten, and if 
thou strike upon that basin thou shalt hear tidings." And Sir 
Launcelot departed, and rode as the damsel had shown him, 
and shortly he came to the ford, and the tree where hung the 
shields and basin. And among the shields he saw Sir Lionel's 
and Sir Hector's shield, besides many others of knights that he 
knew. 

Then Sir Launcelot struck on the basin with the butt of his 
spear ; and long he did so, but he saw no man. And at length 
he was ware of a great knight that drove a horse before him, 
and across the horse there lay an armed knight bounden. And as 
they came near Sir Launcelot thought he should know the cap- 
tive knight. Then Sir Launcelot saw that it was Sir Gaheris, 
Sir Gawain's brother, a knight of the Table Round. "Xow, 
fair knight," said Sir Launcelot, " put that wounded knight off 
the horse, and let him rest awhile, and let us two prove our 
strength. For, as it is told me, thou hast done great despite 
and shame unto knights of the Round Table, therefore now 
defend thee." "If thou be of the Table Round," said Sir Tur- 
quine, "I defy thee and all thy fellowship." "That is over- 
much said," said Sir Launcelot. 

Then they put their spears in the rests, and came together 
with their horses as fast as they might run. And each smote 
the other in the middle of their shields, so that their horses 
fell under them, and the knights were both staggered ; and as 
soon as they could clear their horses, they drew out their 
swords and came together eagerly, and each gave the other 



80 KING ARTHUR AND HIS KNIGHTS. 

many strong strokes, for neither shield nor harness might 
withstand their strokes. So within a while both had grimly 
wounds, and bled grievously. Then at the last they were 
breathless both, and stood leaning upon their swords. "I^ow, 
fellow," said Sir Turquine, "thou art the stoutest man that 
ever I met with, and best breathed ; and so be it thou be not 
the knight that I hate above all other knights, the knight that 
slew my brother. Sir Caradoc, I will gladly accord with thee ; 
and for thy love I will deliver all the prisoners that I have." 

"What knight is he that thou hatest so above others?" 
"Truly," said Sir Turquine, "his name is Sir Launcelot of the 
Lake." " I am Sir Launcelot of the Lake, King Ban's son of 
Ben wick, and very knight of the Table Round ; and now I 
defy thee do thy best." " Ah ! " said Sir Turquine, " Launce- 
lot, thou art to me the most welcome that ever was knight ; 
for we shall never part till the one of us be dead." And then 
tliey hurtled together like two wild bulls, rashing and lashing 
with their swords and shields, so that sometimes they fell, as it 
were, headlong. Thus they fought two hours and more, till 
the ground where they fought was all bepurpled with blood. 

Tl^^n at the last Sir Turquine waxed sore faint, and gave 
somewhat aback, and bare his shield full low for weariness. 
That spied Sir Launcelot, and lept then upon him fiercely as a 
lion, and took him by the beaver of his helmet, and drcAv him 
down on his knees. And he rased off his lielm, and smote his 
neck in sunder. 

And Sir Gaheris, when he saw Sir Turquine slain, said, 
" Fair lord, I pray you tell me your name, for this day I say 
ye are the best knight in the world, for ye have 'slain this day 
in my sight the mightiest man and the best kniglit except you 
that ever I saw." " Sir, my name is Sir Launcelot du Lac, 
that ought to help you of right for King Arthur's sake, and in 
especial for Sir Gawain's sake, your own dear brother. Now I 
pray you, that ye go into yonder castle, and set free all the 
prisoners ye find there, for I am sure ye shall find there many 
knights of the Table Round, and especially my brother Sir 
Lionel. I pray you greet them all from me, and tell them I 
bid them take there such stuff as they find ; and tell my 



LAUNCELOT OF THE LAKE. 81 

brother to go unto the court and abide me there, for by the 
feast of Pentecost I think to be there ; but at tliis time I may 
not stop, for I have adventures on hand." So he departed, 
and Sir Gaheris rode into the castle, and took the keys from 
the porter, and hastily opened the prison door and let out all 
the prisoners. There was Sir Kay, Sir Brandeles, and Sir 
Galynde, Sir Bryan and Sir Alyduke, Sir Hector de Marys 
and Sir Lionel, and many more. And when they saw Sir 
Gaheris, they all thanked him, for they thought, because he 
was wounded, that he had slain Sir Turquine. "Not so," said 
Sir Gaheris ; " it was Sir Launcelot that slew him, right worshijj- 
fully ; I saw it with mine eyes." 

Sir Launcelot rode till at nightfall he came to a fair castle, 
and therein he found an old gentlewoman, who lodged him 
Avith good-will, and there he had good cheer for him and his 
horse. And when time was, his host brought him to a fair 
chamber over the gate to his bed. Then Sir Launcelot un- 
armed him, and set his harness by him, and went to bed, and 
anon he fell asleep. And soon after, there came one on horse- 
back and knocked at the gate in great haste ; and when Sir 
Launcelot heard this, he arose and looked out of the window, 
and saw by the moonlight three knights riding after that one 
man, and all three lashed on him with their swords, and that 
one knight turned on them knightly again and defended him- 
self. " Truly," said Sir Launcelot, " yonder one knight will I 
help, for it is shame to see three knights on one." Then he 
took his harness and went out at the window by a sheet down 
to the four knights ; and he said aloud, " Turn you knights 
unto me, and leave your fighting with that knight." Then 
the knights left Sir Kay, for it was he they were upon, and 
turned unto Sir Launcelot, and struck many great strokes at 
Sir Launcelot, and assailed him on every side. Then Sir Kay 
addressed him to help Sir Launcelot, but he said, " Nay, sir, I 
will none of your he]p ; let me alone with them." So Sir Kay 
suffered him to do his w^ill, and stood one side. And within 
six strokes, Sir Launcelot had stricken them down. 

Then they all cried, " Sir knight, we yield us unto you." 
" As to that," said Sir Launcelot, " I will not take your yield- 



82 KING ARTHUR AND HIS IvNIGHTS. 

ing unto me. If so be ye will yield you unto Sir Kay the 
seneschal, I will save your lives, but else not." "Fair 
knight," then they said, " we will do as thou commandest us." 
" Then shall ye," said Sir Launcelot, " on Whitsunday next, 
go unto the court of King Arthur, and there shall ye yield you 
unto Queen Guenever, and say that Sir Kay sent you thither 
to be her i^risoners." " Sir," they said, " it shall be done, by 
the faith of our bodies ; " and then they swore, every knight 
upon his sword. And so Sir Launcelot suffered them to 
depart. 

On the morn Sir Launcelot rose early and left Sir Kay 
sleeping; and Sir Launcelot took Sir Kay's armor and his 
shield, and armed him, and went to the stable and took his 
horse, and so he departed. Then soon after arose Sir Kay and 
missed Sir Launcelot. And thei> he espied that he had taken 
his armor and his horse. "Xow, by my faith, I know w^ell," 
said Sir Kay, "that he will grieve some of King Arthur's 
knights, for they will deem that it is I, and will be bold to 
meet him. But by cause of his armor I am sure I shall ride in 
peace." Then Sir Kay thanked his host and departed. 

Sir Launcelot rode in a deep forest, and there he saw four 
knights under an oak, and they were of Arthur's court. There 
was Sir Sagramour le Desirus and Hector de Marys, and Sir 
Gawain and Sir Uwaine. As they spied Sir Launcelot, they 
judged by his arms it had been Sir Kay. " Xow, by ray faith," 
said Sir Sagramour, " I will prove Sir Kay's might ; " and got 
his spear in his hand, and came toward Sir Launcelot. There- 
with Sir Launcelot couched his spear against him, and smote 
Sir Sagramour so sore that horse and man fell both to the 
earth. Then said Sir Hector, " Xow shall ye see what I may 
do with him." But he fared worse than Sir Sagramour, for 
Sir Launcelot's spear went through his shoulder and bare him 
from his horse to the ground. '' By my faith," said Sir Uwaine, 
" yonder is a strong knight, and I fear he hath slaiii Sir Kay, 
and taken his armor." And therewith Sir Uwaine took his 
spear in hand, and rode toward Sir Launcelot ; and Sir 
Launcelot met him on the plain and gave him such a buffet 
that he was staggered, and wist not where he was. " Now see 



LAUNCELOT OF THE LAKE. 83 

I well," said Sir Gawain, "that I must encounter with that 
knight." Then he adjusted his shield, and took a good spear 
in his hand, and Sir Launcelot kneAv him well. Then they let 
ran their horses with all their mights, and each knight smote 
tlie other in the middle of his shield. But Sir Gawain's spear 
broke, and Sir Launcelot charged so sore upon him that his 
horse fell over backward. Then Sir Launcelot rode away 
smiling with himself, and he said, "Good luck be with him 
that made this spear, for never came a better into my hand." 
Then the four knights went each to the other and comforted 
one another. " What say ye to this adventure," said Sir 
Gawain, "that one spear hath felled us all four?" "I dare 
lay my head it is Sir Launcelot," said Sir Hector; "I know it 
by his riding." 

And Sir Launcelot rode through many strange countries, till, 
by fortune, he came to a fair castle ; and as he passed beyond the 
castle, he thought he heard two bells ring. And then he 
perceived how a falcon came flying over his head toward a 
high elm ; and she had long lunys * about her feet, and she 
flew unto the elm to take her perch, and the lunys got en- 
tangled in a bough ; and when she would have taken her 
flight, she hung by the legs fast, and Sir Launcelot saw how 
she hung and beheld the fair falcon entangled, and he was 
sorry for her. Then came a lady out of the castle and cried 
aloud, " O Launcelot, Launcelot, as thou art the flower of all 
knights, help me to get my hawk ; for if my hawk be lost, my 
lord will slay me, he is so hasty." " What is your lord's 
name ? " said Sir Launcelot. " His name is Sir Phelot, a 
knight that belongeth to the king of North Wales." " Well, 
fair lady, since ye know my name, and require me of knight- 
hood to help you, I will do what I may to get your hawk ; and 
yet, in truth, I am an ill climber and the tree is passing high 
and few boughs to help me." And therewith Sir Launcelot 
alighted and tied his horse to a tree, and prayed the lady to 
unarm him. And when he was unarmed, he put off his jerkin, 
and with miglit and force he clomb up to the falcon, and tied 
the lunys to a rotten bough, and threw the hawk down with it ; 
* Lunys, the string with which the falcon is held. 



84 KING ARTHUR AND HIS KNIGHTS. 

and the lady got the liawk in her hand. Then suddenly there 
came out of the castle her liusband all armed, and with his 
naked sword in his hand, and said, " O Knight Launcelot, now 
have I got thee as I would ; " and stood at the boll of the tree 
to slay him. " Ah, lady ! " said Sir Launcelot, " why have ye 
betrayed me?" "She hath done," said Sir Phelot, " but as I 
commanded her; and therefore there is none other Avay but 
tliine hour is come, and thou must die." " That were shame 
unto thee," said Sir Launcelot; "thou an armed knight to slay 
a naked man by treason." "Thou gettest none other grace," 
said Sir Phelot, " and therefore help thyself if thou canst." 
"Alas!" said Sir Launcelot, "that ever a knight should die 
weaponless! " And therewith he turned his eyes upward and 
downward; and over his head he saw a big bough leafless, 
and he brake it off from the trunk. And then he came lower, 
and watched how his own horse stood ; and suddenly he leapt on 
the further side of his horse from the knight. Then Sir Phelot 
lashed at him eagerly, meaning to have slain him. But Sir 
Launcelot put away the stroke with the big bough, and smote 
Sir Phelot therewith on the side of the head, so that he fell 
down in a swoon to the ground. Then Sir Launcelot took his 
sword out of his hand and struck his head from tlie body. 
Then said the lady, " Alas ! why hast thou slain my husband ?" 
"I am not the cause," said Sir Launcelot, "for with falsehood 
ye would have slain me, and now it is fallen on yourselves." 
Thereupon Sir Launcelot got all his armor and ]uit it upon 
him hastily for fear of more resort, for the knight's castle was 
so nigh. And as soon as he might, he took his horse and 
departed, and thanked God he had escaped that adventure. 

And two days before the feast of Pentecost, Sir Launcelot 
came home ; and the king and all the court were passing glad 
of his coming. And when Sir Gawain, Sir Uwaine, Sir Sag- 
ramour, and Sir Hector de Marys saw Sir Launcelot in Sir 
Kay's armor, then they wist well it was he that smote them 
'down, all with one spear. Then there was laughing and 
merriment among them; and from time to time came all the 
knights that Sir Turquine had prisoners, and they all honored 
and worshipped Sir Launcelot. Then Sir Gaheris said, "I saw 



LAUNCELOT OF THE LAKE. 85 

all the battle from the beginning to the end," and he told King 
Arthur all how it was. Then Sir Kay told the king how Sir 
Launcelot had rescued him, and how he "made the knights 
yield to me, and not to him." And there they were, all three, 
and confirmed it all. "And, by my faith," said Sir Kay, 
"because Sir Launcelot took my harness and left me his, I 
rode in peace, and no man would have to do with me." 

And so at that time Sir Launcelot had the greatest name of 
any knight of the world, and most was he honored of high and 
low. 




CHAPTER YII. 



THE STORY OF LAUNCELOT. — THE ADVENTURE OF THE 

CART. 

SO it befell in the month of May, Queen Guenever called 
unto her knights of the Table Round, and she gave them 
warning that early upon the morrow she would ride on maying 
into the woods and fields beside Westminster. "And I warn 
you that there be none of you but that he be well horsed, 
and that ye be all clothed in green, either in silk, either in 
cloth, and I shall bring with me ten ladies, and every knight 
shall have a lady behind him, and every knight shall have a 
squire and two yeomen, and I will that ye all be Avell horsed." 
So tliey made them ready in the freshest manner, and these 
were the names of the knights : Sir Kay tlie seneschal. Sir 
Agravaine, Sir Brandiles, Sir Sagramour le Desirus, Sir Dody- 
nas le Sauvage, Sir Ozanna le Cure Hardy, Sir Ladynas of the 
Forest Savage, Sir Perseant of Inde, Sir Ironside that Avas 
called the knight of the red lawns, and Sir Pelleas the lover; 
and these ten knights made them ready in the freshest manner 
to ride with the queen. And so upon the morn they took their 
86 



THE STORY OF LAUXCELOT. 87 

horses, with the queen, and rode on maying in woods and 
meadows, as it pleased them, in great joy and delight ; for the 
queen had cast to have been again with King Arthur at the 
furthest by ten of the clock, and so was that time her purpose. 
Then there was a knight, that knight Meleagans, and he was 
son unto King Bagdemagus, and this knight had at that time 
a castle, of the gift of King Arthur, within seven miles of 
Westminster ; and this knight Sir Meleagaus loved passing well 
Queen Guenever, and so had he done long and many years. 
And he had lain in a wait for to steal away the queen, but 
evermore he forbore, because of Sir Launcelot, for in no w4se 
would he meddle with the queen if Sir Launcelot were in her 
company, or else if he w^ere near at hand to her. And at 
that time was such a custom the queen rode never without a 
great fellowship of men of arms about her ; and they were 
many good knights, and the most part w^ere young men that 
w^ould have worship, and they were called the queen's knights, 
and never in no battle, tournament, nor joust, they bare none 
of them no manner of acknowledging of their own arms, but 
l^lain white shields, and thereby they were called the queen's 
knights. And then wdien it happed any of them to be of great 
worship by his noble deeds, then at the next feast of Pente- 
cost, if there were any slain or dead, as there was no year that 
these failed, but some were dead, then was there chosen in 
his stead the most men of worship that were called the queen's 
knights. And thus they came up all first, or they were 
renowned men of worship, both Sir Launcelot and the rem- 
nant of them. 

But this knight, Sir Meleagans, had espied the queen well 
and her purpose, and how Sir Launcelot was not with her, and 
how she had no men of arms with her but the ten noble knights all 
arrayed in green for maying. Then he provided him a twenty 
men of arms and an hund!'ed archers, for to destroy the queen 
and her knights, for he thought that time was the best season 
to take the queen. So as the queen had mayed and all her 
knights, all were bedashed with herbs, mosses, and flowers, in 
the best manner and freshest. Eight so came out of a wood Sir 
Meleagans with an eightscore men well harnessed, as they should 



Qi5 KIXG ARTHUR AND HIS KNIGHTS. 

fight in a battle of arrest, and bade the queen and her knights 
abide, for maugre their heads they should abide. " Traitor 
knight," said Queen Guenever, " what castest thou for to do ? 
Wilt thou shame thyself ? Bethink thee how thou art a king's 
son, and knight of the Table Round, and thou to be about to 
dishonor the noble king that made thee knight; thou shamest 
all knighthood and thyself, and me. I let thee wit, me shalt 
thou never shame, for I had lever cut my throat in twain than 
thou shouldst dishonor me." "As for all this language," said 
Sir Meleagans, " be it as it may, for wit you well, madam, I 
have loved you many a year, and never or now could I get you 
at such an advantage as I do now, and therefore I will take 
you as I find you." Then spake all the ten noble knights at 
once, and said : " Sir Meleagans, wit thou well ye are about 
to jeopard your worship to dishonor, and also ye cast to jeojoard 
our persons ; howbeit we be unarmed, ye have us at great avail, 
for it seemeth by you that ye have laid watch upon us ; but 
rather than ye should put the queen to shame, and us all, we 
had as lief to depart from our lives, for if we other ways did 
we should be shamed forever." Then Sir Meleagans said, 
" Dress you as well as you can, and keep the queen." Then all 
the ten knights of the Table Round drew their swords, and 
the other let run at them with their spears, and the ten knights 
manly abode them, and smote away their spears, that no spear 
did them none harm. Then they lashed together with swords, 
and anon Sir Kay, Sir Sagramour, Sir Agravaine, Sir Dody- 
nas. Sir Ladynas, and Sir Ozanna were smitten to the earth 
with grimly wounds. Then Sir Brandiles, and Sir Persant, 
Sir Ironside, and Sir Pelleas fought long, and they were sorely 
wounded ; for these ten knights or ever they were laid to the 
ground slew forty men of the boldest and best of them. So 
when the queen saw her knights thus dolefully wounded, and 
needs must be slain at the last, then for pity and sorrow she 
cried, " Sir Meleagans, slay not my noble knights, and I will 
go with thee upon this covenant, tliat thou save them, and suf- 
fer them not to be no more hurt, witli this, that they be led with 
me wheresoever thou leadest me ; for I will rather slay myself 
than I will go with thee, unless that these my noble knights 



THE STORY OF LAUNCELOT. 89 

may be in my i^resence." "Madam," said Meleagans, "for 
your sake they shall be led with you into mine own castle, with 
that ye wdll be ruled and ride with me." Then the queen 
prayed the four knights to leave their fighting, and she and 
they would not part. " Madam," said Sir Pelleas, " we will 
do as ye do, for as for me I take no force of my life nor death." 
For Sir Pelleas gave such buffets that none armor might hold 
him. 

Then by the queen's commandment they left battle, and 
dressed the wounded knights on horseback, some sitting, some 
overthwart their horses, that it was pity to behold them. And 
then Sir Meleagans charged the queen and all her knights that 
none of all her fellowship should depart from her; for full sore 
he dreaded Sir Launcelot du Lac, lest he should have any 
knowledging. All this espied the queen, and privily she called 
unto her a child of her chamber, that was swiftly horsed, to 
whom she said, " Go thou, when thou seest th}^ time, and bear 
this ring to Sir Launcelot du Lac, and pray him, as he loveth 
me, that he will see me, and rescue me if ever he will have joy 
of me ; and spare thou not thy horse," said the queen, " neither 
for water nor for land." So the child espied his time, and 
lightly he took his horse with the spurs, and departed as fast 
as he mio^ht. And when Sir Meleao-ans saw him so flee he un- 
derstood that it was by the queen's commandment for to warn 
Sir Launcelot. Then they that were best horsed chased him, 
and shot at him, but from them all the child went suddenly ; 
and then Sir Meleagans said unto the queen, "Madam, ye are 
about to betray me, but I shall ordain for Sir Launcelot 
that he shall not come lightly to you." And then he rode 
with her and them all to his castle in all the haste that he 
might. And by the way Sir Meleagtns laid in an ambushment 
the best archers that he might get in his country, to the num- 
ber of thirty, to await upon Sir Launcelot, charging them that 
if they saw such a manner of knight come by the way upon a 
white horse, that in any wise they slay his horse, but in no 
manner of wise have not ado with him bodily, for he was over- 
hard to be overcome. So this was done, and they were come 
to his castle, but in no wise the queen would never let none of 



90 KING ARTHUR AND HIS KNIGHTS. 

the ten knights and her ladies out of her sight, but always they 
were in her presence. So when the child was departed from 
the fellowship of Sir Meleagans, within awhile he came to 
Westminster. And anon he found Sir Launcelot. And when 
he had told him his message, and delivered him the queen's 
ring, " Alas ! " said Sir Launcelot, "now am I shamed forever, 
unless that I may rescue that noble lady from dishonor." Then 
eagerly he asked his armor, and ever the child told Sir Launce- 
lot how the ten knights fought marvellously, and how Sir Pel- 
leas, and Sir Ironside, and Sir Brandiles, and Sir Persant of 
Lide fought strongly, but as for Sir Pelleas there might none 
withstand him, and how they all fought till at last they were 
laid to the earth, and then the queen made appointment for to 
save their lives, and go with Sir Meleagans. " Alas ! " said 
Sir Launcelot, "that most noble lady that she should be so de- 
stroyed ! I had lever," said Sir Launcelot, " than all France 
that I had been there well armed." So when Launcelot was 
armed and upon his horse, he prayed the child of the queen's 
chamber to warn Sir Lavaine how suddenly he was departed, 
and for what cause, — "and pray him, as he loveth me, that 
he will hie him after me, and that he stint not until he come 
to the castle where Sir Meleagans abideth or dwelleth, for 
there," said Launcelot, " shall he hear of me if I am a man 
living, and rescue the queen and her ten knights, the which he 
traitorously hath taken, and that shall I prove upon his head, 
and all them that hold with him." 

Then Sir Launcelot rode as fast as he miglit, and he took the 
water at Westminster, and made his horse to swim over Thames 
at Lambeth. And then within a while he came to the place 
where the ten knights had fought with Sir Meleagans, and then 
Sir Launcelot followed i\mt track until he came to a wood, and 
there was a straight way, and there the thirty archers bade Sir 
Launcelot turn again, and follow no longer that track. " What 
commandment have ye thereto," said Sir Launcelot, " to cause 
me, that am a knight of the Round Table, to leave my right 
way?" "This way shalt thou leave, or else thou shalt go it 
on thy foot, for wit thou well thy horse shall be slain." " That 
is little mastery," said Sir Launcelot, "to slay my horse, but as 



THE STORY OF LAUNCELOT. 91 

for myself, when my horse is slain, I give right nought for yon, 
not if ye were five hundred more." So then they shot Sir Launce- 
lot's horse, and smote him with many arrows. And then Sir 
Launcelot avoided his horse and went on foot ; but there were 
so many ditches and hedges betwixt them and him that he 
might meddle with none of them. "Alas, for shame," said 
Sir Launcelot, "that ever one knight should betray another 
knigh't, but it is an old saw, 'A good man is never in danger 
but when he is in danger of a coward.'" Then Sir Launcelot 
went a while, and then he was foul cumbered of his armor, 
his shield, and his spear, and all that belonged to him. Wit 
ye well he was sore annoyed, and full loth he was to leave any- 
thing that belonged to him, for he dreaded sore the treason of 
Sir Meleagans. And then by fortune there came by a cart that 
came thither for to fetch wood. 

Now at this time carts were but little used save for carrying 
offal or such like, and for conveying criminals to execution. But 
Sir Launcelot took no thought save of rescuing the queen. 
" Say me, carter," said he, " what shall I give thee for to suffer 
me to leap into thy cart, and that thou shalt bring me unto a 
castle within this two mile ? " " Thou shalt not come within my 
cart," said the carter, " for I am sent for to fetch wood for my 
lord Sir Meleagans." "With him would I speak." "Thou 
shalt not go with me," said the carter. Then Sir Launcelot 
lept to him, and gave him such a buffet that he fell to the earth 
stark dead. Then the other carter, his fellow, thought to have 
gone the same way, and then he cried, " Fair lord, save my 
life, and I shall bring you where you will." 

So then Sir Launcelot placed himself in the cart, and only 
lamented that with much jolting he made but little progress. 
Then it happened Sir Gawain passed by, and seeing an armed 
knight travelling in that unusual way, he drcAvnear to see who 
it might be. Then Sir Launcelot told him how the queen had 
been carried off, and how, in hastening to her rescue, his horse 
had been disabled, and he had been compelled to avail himself 
of the cart rather than give up his enterprise. Then Sir Ga- 
wain said, " Surely it is unworthy of a knight to travel in such 
sort;" but Sir Launcelot heeded him not. 



92 KING ARTHUR AND HIS KNIGHTS. 

At nightfall they arrived at a castle, and the lady thereof 
came out at the head of her damsels to welcome Sir Gawain. 
But to admit his companion, whom she supposed to be a crim- 
inal, or at least a prisoner, it pleased her not ; however, to 
oblige Sir Gawain, she consented. At sujDper Sir Launcelot 
came near being consigned to the kitchen, and was only ad- 
mitted to the lady's table at the earnest solicitation of Sir Ga- 
wain. Neither would the damsels prepare a bed for him. He 
seized tlie first he found unoccupied, and was left undisturbed. 

Next morning he saw from the turrets of the castle a train 
accompanying a lady, whom he imagined to be the queen. Sir 
Gawain thought it might be so, and became equally eager to 
depart. The lady of the castle supplied Sir Launcelot with a 
horse, and they traversed the plain at full speed. They 
learned from some travellers whom they met that there were 
two roads which led to the castle of Sir Meleagans. Here 
therefore the friends separated. Sir Launcelot found his way 
beset with obstacles, Avhich he encountered successfully, but 
not without much loss of time. As evening aj^proached he 
was met by a young and sportive damsel, who gayly proposed 
to him a supper at her castle. The knight, who was hungry and 
weary, accepted the offer, though with no very good grace. 
He followed the lady to her castle, and eat voraciously of her 
supper, but was quite impenetrable to all her amorous ad- 
vances. Suddenly the scene changed, and he was assailed by 
six furious ruffians, whom he dealt with so vigorously that most 
of them were speedily disabled, when again there was a change, 
and he found himself alone with his fair hostess, who informed 
him that she was none other than his guardian fairy, who had 
but subjected him to tests of liis courage and fidelity. The next 
day the fairy brought him on his road, and before parting gave 
him a ring, which she told him would by its changes of^color 
disclose to him all enchantments, and enable him to subdue 
them. 

Sir Launcelot pursued his journey, being but little troubled 
save by the taunts of travellers, who all seemed to have learned 
by some means his disgraceful drive in the cart. One, more 
insolent than the rest, had the audacity to interrupt him 



THE STORY OF LAUNCELOT. 93 

during dinner, find even to risk a battle in support of his 
pleasantry. Launcelot, after an easy victory, only doomed 
him to be carted in his turn. 

At niglit he was received at another castle, with great ap- 
jDarent hospitality, but found himself in the morning in a duu- 
o-eon and loaded with chains. Consultino- hisrino^ and findino- 
that this was an enchantment, he burst his chains, seized liis 
armor in spite of the visionary monsters who attempted to de- 
fend it, broke open the gates of the tower, and continued liis 
journey. At length his progress was checked by a wide and 
rapid torrent, which could only be passed on a narrow bridge, 
on which a false step would prove his destruction. Launcelot, 
leading his horse by the bridle, and making him swim by his 
side, passed over the bridge, and was attacked, as soon as he 
reached the bank, by a lion and a leopard, both of which he 
slew, and then, exhausted and bleeding, seated himself on the 
grass, and endeavored to bind up his wounds, when he was ac- 
costed by Brademagus, the father of Meleagans, whose castle 
was then in sight, and at no great distance. The king, no less 
courteous than his son was haughty and insolent, after compli- 
menting Sir Launcelot on the valor and skill he had displayed 
in the perils of the bridge and the wild beasts, offered him his 
assistance, and informed him that the queen was safe in his 
castle, but could only be rescued by encountering Meleagans. 
Launcelot demanded the battle for the next day, and accord- 
ingly it took place, at the foot of the tower, and under the eyes 
of the fair captive. Launcelot was enfeebled by his wounds, 
and fought not with his usual spirit, and the contest for a time 
was doubtful; till Guenever exclaimed, "Ah, Launcelot ! my 
knight, truly have I been told that thou art no longer worthy 
of me !" These words instantly revived tlie drooping knight? 
he resumed at once his usual superiority, and soon laid at his 
feet his haughty adversary. 

He was on the point of sacrificing him to his resentment 
when Guenever, moved by the entreaties of Brademagus, or- 
dered him to withhold the blow, and he obeyed. The castle 
and its prisoners were now at his disposal. Launcelot hastened 
to the apartment of the queen, threw himself at her feet, and 



94 KIXG ARTHUR AND HIS KNIGHTS. 

was about to kiss her hand, when she exclaimed, "Ah, Launce- 
lot ! why do I see thee again, yet feel thee to be no longer wor- 
thy of me, after having been disgracefully drawn about the 

country in a " She had not time to finish the phrase, for 

her lover suddenly started from her, and bitterly lamentiiig 
that he had incurred the displeasure of his sovereign lady, 
rushed out of the castle, threw his sword and his shield to the 
right and left, ran furiously into the woods, and disaj^peared. 

It seems that tlie story of the abominable cart, which haunted 
Launcelot at every step, had reached the ears of Sir Kay, who 
had told it to the queen, as a proof that her knight must have 
been dishonored. But Guenever had full leisure to repent the 
haste with whicli she had given credit to the tale. Three days 
elapsed, during which Launcelot wandered without knowing 
where he went, till at last he began to reflect that his mistress 
had doubtless been deceived by misrepresentation, and that it 
was his duty to set her right. He therefere returned, com- 
l^elled Meleagans to release his prisoners, and, taking the road 
by which they expected the arrival of Sir Gawain, had the sat- 
isfaction of meeting him the next day ; after which the whole 
company proceeded gayly towards Camelot. 




CHAPTER YIII. 



THE STORY OF LAUNCELOT. — THE LADY OF SHALOTT. 



KING ARTHUR proclaimed a solemn tournament to be 
held at Winchester. The king, not less impatient than 
his knights for this festival, set off some days before to super- 
intend the preparations, leaving the queen with her court at 
Camelot. Sir Launcelot, under pretence of indisposition, 
remained behind also. His intention was to attend the 
tournament in disguise ; and having communicated his pro- 
ject to Guenever, he mounted his horse, set off without any 
attendant, and, counterfeiting the feebleness of age, took the 
most unfrequented road to Winchester, and passed unnoticed 
as an old knight who was going to be a spectator of the sports. 
Even Arthur and Gawain, who happened to behold him from 
the windows of a castle under which he passed, w^ere the 
dupes of his disguise. But an accident betrayed him. His 
horse happened to stumble, and the hero, forgetting for a 
moment his assumed character, recovered the animal with a 
strength and agility so peculiar to himself, that they instantly 
recognized the inimitable Launcelot. They suffered him, 

95 



96 KING ARTHUR AND HIS KNIGHTS. 

however, to proceed on his journey without interruption, 
convinced that his extraordinary feats of arms must discover 
him at the approaching festival. 

In the evening Launcelot was magnificently entertained as a 
strans^er knio^ht at the neisjhborino^ castle of Shalott. The 
lord of this castle had a daughter of exquisite beauty, and 
two sons lately received into the order of knighthood, one of 
whom was at that time ill in bed, and thereby prevented from 
attending the tournament, for which both brotliers had long 
made preparations. Launcelot offered to attend the other, if 
he were permitted to borrow the armor of the invalid, and the 
lord of Shalott, without knowing the name of his guest, being 
satis^ed from his appearance that his son could not have 
a better assistant in arms, most thankfully accepted the offer. 
In the mean time the young lady, who had been much struck 
by the first appearance of the stranger knight, continued to 
survey him with increased attention, and before the conclusion 
of supper, became so deeply enamored of him, that, after 
frequent changes of color, and other symptoms which Sir 
Launcelot could not possibly mistake, she was obliged to retire 
to her chamber, and seek relief in tears. Sir Launcelot 
hastened to convey to her, by means of her brother, the 
information that his heart was already disposed of, but that it 
w^ould be his pride and. pleasure to act as her knight at the 
approaching tournament. The lady, obliged to be satisfied 
with that courtesy, presented him lier scarf to be worn at the 
tournament. 

Launcelot set off in the morning with the young knight, who, 
on their approaching Winchester, carried him to the castle of 
a lady, sister to the lord of Shalott, by whom they were 
hospitably entertained. The next day they put on their 
armor, which Avas perfectly plain, and without any device, 
as was usual to youths during the first year of knighthood, 
their shields being only painted red, as some color was neces- 
sary to enable them to be recognized by their attendants. 
Launcelot wore on his crest the scarf of the maid of Shalott, 
and, thus equipped, proceeded to the tournament, where the 
knights were divided into two companies, the one commanded 



THE STORY OF LAUNCELOT. 97 

by Sir Galehaut, the other by King Arthur. Having surveyed 
the combat for a short time from without the lists, and 
observed that Sir Galehaut's party began to give way, 
they joined the press and attacked the royal knights, the 
young man choosing such adversaries as were suited to his 
strength, while his companion selected the principal champions 
of the Round Table, and successively overthrew Gawain, 
Bohort, and Lionel. The astonishment of the spectators was 
extreme, for it was thought that no one but Launcelot could 
possess such invincible force ; yet the favor on his crest 
seemed to preclude the possibility of his being thus disguised, 
for Launcelot had never been known to wear the badge of any 
but his sovereign lady. At length Sir Hector, Launcelot's 
brother, engaged him, and, after a dreadful combat, wounded 
him dangerously in the head, but was himself completely 
stunned by a blow on the helmet, and felled to the ground ; 
after which the conquerer rode off at full speed, attended by 
his companion. 

They returned to the castle of Shalott, where Launcelot was 
attended with the greatest care by the good earl, by his two 
sons, and, above all, by his fair daughter, whose medical skill 
probably much hastened the period of his recovery. His 
health was almost completely restored, when Sir Hector, Sir 
Bohort, and Sir Lionel, who, after the return of the court to 
Camelot, had undertaken the quest of their relation, discovered 
him walking on the walls of the castle. Their meeting was 
very joyful ; they passed tliree days in the castle amidst con- 
stant festivities, and bantered each other on the events of the 
tournament. Launcelot, though he began by vowing ven- 
geance against the author of his wound, yet ended hj declaring 
that he felt rewarded for the jDain by the pride he took in wit- 
nessing his brother's extraordinary prowess. He then dis- 
missed them with a message to the queen, promising to follow 
immediately, it being necessary that he should first take a 
formal leave of his kind hosts, as well as of the fair maid of 
Shalott. 

The young lady, after vainly attempting to detain him by 
her tears and solicitations, saw him depart without leaving 
her any ground for hope. 



98 KING ARTHUR AND HIS KNIGHTS. 

It was early summer when the tournament took place ; but 
some months had passed since Launcelot's departure, and win- 
ter was now near at hand. The health and strength of the 
Lady of Shalott had gradually sunk, and she felt that she could 
not live apart from the object of her affections. She left the 
castle, and, descending to the river's brink, placed herself in a 
boat, which she loosed from its moorings, and suffered to bea-i 
her down the current toward Camelot. 

One morning, as Arthur and Sir Lionel looked from the win 
dow of the tower, the walls of which were washed by a river, 
they descried a boat richly ornamented, and covered with an 
awning of cloth of gold, which appeared to be floating down 
the stream without any human guidance. It struck the shore 
while they watched it, and they hastened down to examine it. 
Beneath the awning they discovered the dead body of a beau- 
tiful woman, in wliose features Sir Lionel easily recognized the 
lovely maid of Shalott. Pursuing their search, they discovered 
a purse richly embroidered with gold and jewels, and within 
the purse a letter, which Arthur opened, and found addressed 
to himself and all the knights of the Round Table, stating that 
Launcelot of the Lake, the most accomplished of knights and 
most beautiful of men, but at the same time the most cruel and 
inflexible, had by his rigor produced the death of the wretched 
maiden, whose love was no less invincible than his cruelty. 

The king immediately gave orders for the interment of the 
lady, with all the honors suited to her rank, at the same time 
explaining to the knights the history of her affection for 
Launcelot, which moved the compassion and regret of all. 



Tennyson has chosen the story of the Lady of Shalott for 
the subject of a poem : — 

" There she weaves by night and day 
A magic web with colors gay. 
She has heard a whisper say 
A curse is on her if she stay 

To look down to Camelot. 



THE STORY OF LAUNCELOT. 99 

She knows not what the curse may be, 
And so she weaveth steadily, 
And little other care hath she, 
The Lady of Shalott. 

"And moving thro' a mirror clear 
That hangs before her all the year, 
Shadows of the world appear. 
There she sees the highway near 

Winding down to Camelot : 
There the river eddy whirls, 
And there the surly village churls, 
And the red cloaks of market girls 

Pass onward from Shalott. 

" Sometimes a troop of damsels glad. 
An abbot on an ambling pad, 
Sometimes a curly shepherd lad. 
Or long-haired page in crimson clad 
Goes by to towered Camelot. 
And sometimes thro' the mirror blue 
The knights come riding two and two : 
She has no loyal knight and true, 
The Lady of Shalott. 

" But in her web she still delights 
To Aveave the mirror's magic sights. 
For often thro' the silent nights 
A funeral, with plumes and lights 

And music, went to Camelot : 
Or when the moon was overhead, 
Came two young lovers lately wed; 
*I am half sick of shadows,' said 

The Lady of Shalott." 

The poem goes on as the story : the lady sees Launcelot, he 
rides away, and she afterward dies and floats down the river 
in a boat to Camelot. The poem ends as follows : — 

" Under tower and balcony. 
By garden wall and gallery, 
A gleaming shape she floated by 
Dead-pale between the houses high, 

Silent unto Camelot. 
Out upon the wharves they came, 
Knight and burgher, lord and dame, 
And round the prow they read her name, 

The Ladv of Shalott. 



100 KING ARTHUR AND HIS KNIGHTS. 

*' Who is this ? and what is here ? 
And in the lighted palace near 
Died the sound of royal cheer ; 
And they crossed themselves for fear 

All the knights at Camelot : 
But Launcelot mused a little space ; 
He said ' She has a lovely face ; 
God in his mercy lend her grace, 

The Lady of Shalott.' " 

The story of "Elaine the fair, Elaine the lovable, Elaine, 
the iily-maid of Astolat," one of the earliest of the " Idylls of 
the King," is of course the same tale as the Lady of Shalott. 




CHAPTER IX. 



THE STORY OF LAUNCELOT. —QUEEN GUENEVER'S PERIL. 



IT happened at this time that Queen Guenever was thrown 
into great peril of her life. A certain squire who was in 
her immediate service, having some cause of animosity to Sir 
Gawain, determined to destroy him by poison at a public 
entertainment. For this purpose he concealed the poison in 
an apple of fine appearance, which he placed on the top of 
several others, and put the dish before the queen, hoping that, 
as Sir Gawain was the knight of greatest dignity, she would 
present the apple to him. But it happened that a Scottish 
knight of high distinction, who arrived on that day, was seated 
next to the queen, and to him, as a stranger, she presented the 
apple, which he had no sooner eaten than he was seized with 
dreadful pain, and fell senseless. The whole court was of 
course thrown into confusion ; the knights rose from table, 
darting looks of indignation at the wretched queen, whose 
tears and protestations were unable to remove their suspicions. 
In spite of all that could be done the knight died, and nothing 

101 



102 KING ARTHUR AND HIS KNIGHTS. 

remained but to order a magnificent funeral and monument 
for him, which was done. 

Some time after, Sir Mador, brother of the murdered knight, 
arrived at Arthur's court in quest of him. While hunting in 
the forest he by chance came to the spot where the monument 
was erected, read the inscription, and returned to court 
determined on immediate and signal vengeance. He rode 
into the hall, loudly accused the queen of treason, and insisted 
on her being given up to punishment, unless she should find, 
by a certain day, a knight hardy enough to risk his life in 
support of her innocence. Arthur, powerful as he was, did 
not dare to deny the appeal, but was compelled, with a heavy 
heart, to accept it, and Mador sternly took his departure, leav- 
ing the royal couple plunged in terror and anxiety. 

During all this time Launcelot was absent, and no one knew 
where he was. He had fled in anger from his fair mistress, 
upon being reproached by her with his passion for the Lady of 
Shalott, which she had hastily inferred from his wearing her 
scarf at the tournament. He took up his abode with a hermit 
in the forest, and resolved to think no more of the cruel beauty, 
whose conduct he thought must flow from a wish to get rid of 
him. Yet calm reflection had somewhat cooled his indignation, 
and he had begun to wish, though hardly able to hope, for a 
reconciliation, when the news of Sir Mador's challenge for- 
tunately reached his ears. The intelligence revived his spirits, 
and he began to prepare with the utmost cheerfulness for a 
contest which, if successful, would insure him at once the 
affection of his mistress and the gratitude of his sovereign. 

The sad fate of the Lady of Shalott had ere this completely 
acquitted Launcelot in the queen's mind of all suspicion of his 
fidelity, and she lamented most grievously her foolish quarrel 
with him, which now, at her time of need, deprived her of her 
most efficient champion. 

As the day appointed by Sir Mador was fast approaching, it 
became necessary that she should. procure a champion for her 
defence; and she successively adjured Sir Hector, Sir Lionel, 
Sir Bohort, and Sir Gawain to undertake the battle. She fell 
on her knees before them, called Heaven to witness her 



THE STORY OF LAUXCELOT. 103 

innocence of the crime alleged against her, but was sternly 
answered by all that they could not fight to maintain the 
innocence of one whose act, and the fatal consequences of it, 
they had seen with their own eyes. She retired, therefore, 
dejected and disconsolate ; but the sight of the fatal pile on 
Avhich, if guilty, she was doomed to be burned, exciting her to 
fresh effort, she again repaired to Sir Bohort, threw herself at 
his feet, and, piteously calling on him for mercy, fell into a 
swoon. The brave knight • was not proof against this. He 
raised her up, and hastily promised that he would undertake 
her cause, if no other or better champion should present him- 
self. He then summoned his friends, and told them his 
resolution; and as a mortal combat with Sir Mador was a 
most fearful enterprise, they agreed to accompany him in the 
morning to the hermitage in the forest, where he proposed to 
receive absolution from the hermit, and to make his peace with 
Heaven, before he entered the lists. As they approached the 
hermitage, they espied a knight riding in the forest, whom 
they at once recognized as Sir Launcelot. Overjoyed at the 
meeting, they quickly, in answer to his questions, confirmed 
the news of the queen's imminent danger, and received his 
instructions to return to court, to comfort her as well as they 
could, but to say nothing of his intention of undertaking her 
defence, which he meant to do in the character of an unknown 
adventurer. 

On their return to tho castle they found that mass was 
finished, and had scarcely time to speak to the queen before 
they were summoned into the hall to dinner. A general 
gloom was spread over the countenances of all the guests. 
Arthur himself was unable to conceal his dejection, and the 
wretched Guenever, motionless and bathed in tears, sat in 
trembling expectation of Sir Mador's appearance. Nor was it 
long ere he stalked into the hall, and with a voice of thunder, 
rendered more impressive by the general silence, demanded 
instant justice on the guilty party. Arthur replied with 
dignity, that little of the day was yet spent, and that perhaps a 
champion might yet be found capable of satisfying his thirst 
for battle. Sir Bohort now rose from table, and, shortly 



104 KING ARTHUR AND HIS KNIGHTS. 

retarning in complete armor, resumed his jjlace, after receiving 
the embraces and thanks of the king, who now began to resume 
some degree of confidence. Sir Mador, growing impatient, 
again repeated his denunciations of vengeance, and insisted 
that the combat should no longer be postponed. 

In the height of tlie debate there came riding into the hall a 
knight mounted on a black steed, and clad in black armor, 
with his visor down, and lance in hand. " Sir," said the king, 
"is it your will to alight and partake of our cheer?" "N'ay, 
sir," he replied ; " I come to save a lady's life. The queen 
hath ill bestowed her favors, and honored many a knight, that 
in her hour of need she should have none to take her part. 
Thou that darest accuse her of treachery stand forth, for 
to-day shalt thou need all thy might." 

Sir Mador, though surprised, was not appalled by the stern 
challenge and formidable appearance of his antagonist, but 
prepared for the encounter. At tlie first shock both were 
unhorsed. They then drew their swords, and commenced a 
combat which lasted from noon till evening, when Sir Mador, 
whose strength began to fail, was felled to the ground by 
Launcelot, and compelled to sue for mercy. The victor, 
whose arm was already raised to terminate the life of his 
opponent, instantly dropped his sword, courteously lifted up 
the fainting Sir Mador, frankly confessing that he had never 
before encountered so formidable an enemy. The other, with 
similar courtesy, solemnly renounced all further projects of 
vengeance for his brother's death ; and the two knights now 
become fast friends, embraced each other with the greatest 
cordiality. In the mean time Arthur, having recognized Sir 
Launcelot, whose helmet was now unlaced, rushed down into 
the lists, followed by all his knights, to welcome and thank 
his deliverer. Guenever swooned with joy, and the place of 
combat suddenly exhibited a scene of the most tumultuous 
delight. 

The general satisfaction was still further increased by the 
discovery of the real culprit. Having accidentally incurred 
some suspicion, he confessed his crime, and was publicly 
punished in the presence of Sir Mador. 



THE STORY OF LAUNCELOT. 105 

The court now returned to the castle, which, with the title 
of " La Joyeuse Garde " bestowed upon it in memory of the 
happy event, was conferred on Sir Launcelot by Arthur, as a 
memorial of his gratitude. 

So far of the Story of Sir Launcelot. Let us turn now to 
the Story of Sir Tristram of Lyonesse. 




CHAPTER X. 



THE STORY OF TRISTRAM OF LYONESSE. 

MELIADUS was king of Leonois, or Lyon esse, a country 
famous in the annals of romance, which adjoined the 
kingdom of Cornwall, but has now disappeared from the map, 
having been, it is said, overwhelmed by the ocean. Meliadus 
was married to Isabella, sister of Mark, king of Cornwall. A 
fairy fell in love with him, and drew him away by enchant- 
ment while he was engaged in hunting. His queen set out in 
quest of him, but was taken ill on her journey, and died, leav- 
ing an infant son, whom, from the melancholy circumstances 
of his birth, she called Tristram. 

Gouvernail, the queen's squire, who had accompanied her, 
took charge of the child, and restored him to his father, who 
had at length burst the enchantments of the fairy, and returned 
home. 

Meliadus, after seven years, married again, and the new 
queen, being jealous of the influence of Tristram with his 
father, laid plots for his life, which were discovered by Gouver- 
106 



THE STOKY OF TRISTRA3I OF LYONESSE. 107 

nail, who, in consequence, fled with the boy to the court of the 
king of France, where Tristram was kindly received, and grew 
up improving in every gallant and knightly accomplishment, 
adding to his skill in arms the arts of music and of chess. In 
particular, he devoted himself to the chase and to all woodland 
sports, so that he became distinguished above all other cheva- 
liers of the court for his knowledge of all that relates to hunt- 
ing. No wonder that Belinda, the king's daughter, fell in 
love with him ; but as he did not return her passion, she, in a 
sudden impulse of anger, excited her father against him, and 
he was banished the kingdom. The princess soon repented of 
her act, and in despair destroyed herself, having first written a 
most tender letter to Tristram, sending him at the same time a 
beautiful and sagacious dog, of which she was very fond, de- 
siring him to keep it as a memorial of her. Meliadus was now 
dead, and as his queen, Tristram's stepmother, held the throne, 
Oouvernail was afraid to carry his pupil to his native country, 
and took him to Cornwall, to his uncle Mark, who gave him a 
kind reception. 

King Mark resided at the castle of Tintadel, already men- 
tioned in the history of Uther and Iguerne. In this court 
Tristram became distinguished in all the exercises incumbent 
on a knight ; nor was it long before he had an opportunity of 
practically employing his valor and skill. Moraunt, a cele- 
brated champion, brother to tlie queen of Ireland, arrived at 
the court, to demand tribute of King Mark. The knights of 
Cornwall are in ill repute, in romance, for their cowardice, and 
they exhibited it on this occasion. King Mark could find no 
champion who dared to encounter the Irish knight, till his 
nephew Tristram, who had not yet received the honors of 
knighthood, craved to be admitted to the order, offering at the 
same time to fight the battle of Cornwall against the Irish 
champion. King Mark assented with reluctance ; Tristram 
received the accolade, which conferred knighthood upon him ; 
and the place and time were assigned for the encounter. 
' Without attempting to give the details of this famous com- 
bat, the first and one of the most glorious of Tristram's ex- 
ploits, we shall only say that the young knight, though severely 



108 KING ARTHUR AND HIS KNIGHTS. 

wounded, cleft the head of Moraunt, leaving a portion of his 
sword in the wound. Moraunt, half dead with his wound and 
the disgrace of his defeat, hastened to hide himself in his ship, 
sailed away with all speed for Ireland, and died soon after 
arriving in his own country. 

The kingdom of Cornwall was thus delivered from its trib- 
ute. Tristram, weakened by loss of blood, fell senseless. 
His friends flew to his assistance. They dressed his wounds, 
which in general healed readily ; but the lance of Moraunt was 
poisoned, and one wound which it made yielded to no reme- 
dies, but grew worse day by day. The surgeons could do no 
more. Tristram asked permission of his uncle to depart, and 
seek for aid in the kingdom of Loegria (England). With his 
consent he embarked, and, after tossing for many days on the 
sea, was driven by the winds to the coast of Ireland. He 
landed, full of joy and gratitude that h© had escaped the peril 
of the sea; took his rote,* and began to play. It was a sum- 
mer evening, and the king of Ireland and his daughter, the 
beautiful Isoude, were at a window which overlooked the sea, 
Tlie strange harper was. sent for, and conveyed to the palace, 
where, finding that he was in Ireland, whose champion he had 
lately slain, he concealed his name, and called himself Tram- 
tris. The queen undertook his cure, and by a medicated bath 
gradually restored him to health. His skill in music and in 
games occasioned his being frequently called to court, and he 
became the instructor of the Princess Isoude in minstrelsy and 
poetry, who profited so well under his care, that she soon had 
no equal in the kingdom, except her instructor. 

At this time a tournament was held, at which many knights 
of the Round Table, and others, were present. On the first 
day a Saracen prince, named Palamedes, obtained the advan- 
tage over all. They brought him to the court, and gave him a 
feast, at which Tristram, just recovering from his wound, was 
present. The fair Isoude appeared on this occasion in all her 
charms. Palamedes could not behold them without emotion, 
and made no effort to conceal his love. Tristram perceived it, 

* A musical instrument. 



THE STORY OF TRISTRAM OF LYONESSE. 109 

and the pain he felt from jealousy taught him how dear the 
fair Isoude had already become to him. 

Next day the tournament was' renewed. Tristram, still 
feeble from his wound, rose during the night, took his arms, 
and concealed them in a forest near the place of the contest, 
and, after it had begun, mingled with the combatants. He 
overthrew all that encountered him, in particular Palamedes, 
whom he brought to the ground with a stroke of his lance, and 
then fought him hand to hand,. bearing off the prize of the 
tourney. . But his exertions caused his wound to reopen ; he 
bled fast, and in this sad state, yet in triumph, they bore him 
to the palace. The fair Isoude devoted herself to his relief 
with an interest which grew more vivid day by day ; and her 
skilful care soon restored him to health. 

It happened one day that a damsel of the court, entering the 
closet where Tristram's arms were deposited, perceived that a 
part of the sword had been broken off. It occurred to her that 
the missing portion was like that which was left in the skull of 
Moraunt, the Irish champion. She imparted her thought to 
the queen, who compared the fragment taken from her brother's 
wound with the sword of Tristram, and was satisfied that it 
was part of the same, and that the weapon of Tristram was 
that which reft her brother's life. She laid her griefs and re- 
sentment before the king, who satisfied himself with his own 
eyes of the truth of her suspicions. Tristram was cited before 
the whole court, and reproached with having dared to present 
himself before them after having slain their kinsman. He ac- 
knowledged that he had fought with Moraunt to settle the 
claim for tribute, and said that it was by force of winds and 
waves alone that he was thrown on their coast. The queen 
demanded vengeance for the death of her brother; the fair 
Isoude trembled and grew pale, but a murmur rose from all the 
assembly that the life of one so handsome and so brave should 
not be taken for such a cause, and generosity finally triumphed 
over resentment in the mind of the king. Tristram was dis- 
missed in safety, but commanded to leave the kingdom without 
delay, and never to return thither under pain of death. Tris- 
tram went back, with restored health, to Cornwall. 



110 KING ARTHUR AND HIS KNIGHTS. 

King Mark made his nephew give him a minute recital of 
his adventures. Tristram told him all minutely; but when he 
came to speak of the fair Isoude, he described her charms with 
a warmth and energy such as none but a lover could display. 
King Mark was fascinated with the description, and, choosing 
a favorable time, demanded a boon * of his nephew, who readily 
granted it. The king made him swear upon the holy reliques 
that he would fulfil his commands. Then Mark directed him 
to go to Ireland, and obtain for him the fair Isoude to be queen 
of Cornwall. 

Tristram believed it was certain death for him to return to 
Ireland ; and how could he act as ambassador for his uncle in 
such a cause. Yet, bound by his oath, he hesitated not for an 
instant. He only took the precaution to change his armor. 
He embarked for Ireland ; but a tempest drove him to the 
coast of England, near Camelot, where King Arthur was hold- 
ing his court, attended by the knights of the Round Table, and 
many others, the most illustrious in the world. 

Tristram kept himself unknown. He took part in many 
jousts ; he fought many combats, in which lie covered him- 
self with glory. One day he saw among those recently arrived 
the king of Ireland, father of the fair Isoude. This prince, 
accused of treason against his liege sovereign, Arthur, came to 
Camelot to free himself of the charge. Blaanor, one of the 
most redoubtable warriors of the Round Table, was his accu- 
ser, and Argius, the king, had neither youthful vigor nor 
strength to encounter him. He must therefore seek a cham- 
pion to sustain his innocence. But the knights of the Round 
Table were not at liberty to fight against one another, unless 
in a quarrel of their own. Argius heard of the great renown of 
the unknown knight ; he also was witness of his exploits. He 

* ** Good faith was the very corner-stone of chivahy. Whenever a knight's 
word was pledged (it mattered not how rashly), it was to be redeemed at any 
price. Hence the sacred obligation of the boon granted by a knight to his sup- 
pliant. Instances without number occur in romance, in which a knight, by rashly 
granting an indefinite boon, was obliged to door suffer something extremely to his 
prejudice. But it is not in romance alone that we find such singular instances of 
adherence to an indefinite promise. The history of the times presents authentic 
transactions equally embarrassing and absurd."— Scott, note of Sir Tristram. 



THE STORY OF TRISTRAM OF LYONESSE. Ill 

sought liini, and conjured liirn to adopt bis defence, and on his 
oath declared that he was innocent of the crime of which 
he was accused. Tristram readily consented, and made him- 
self known to the king, who on his part promised to reward 
his exertions, if successful, with whatever gift he might ask. 

Tristram fought with Blaanor, and overthrew him, and held 
his life in his power. The fallen warrior called on him to use 
his right of conquest, and strike the fatal blow. " God for- 
bid," said Tristram, " that I should take the life of so brave a 
knight ! " He raised him up and restored him to his friends. 
The judges of the field decided that the king of Ireland was 
acquitted of the charge against him, and they led Tristram in 
triumph to his tent. King Argius, full of gratitude, conjured 
Tristram to accompany him to his kingdom. They departed 
together, and arrived in Ireland ; and the queen, forgetting her 
resentment for her brother's death, exhibited to the preserver 
of her husband's life nothing but gratitude and good-will. 

How happy a moment for Isoude, who knew that her father 
had promised his deliverer whatever boon he might ask. But the 
unhappy Tristram gazed on her with despair, at the thought 
of the cruel oath which bound him. His magnanimous soul 
subdued the force of his love. He revealed the oath which 
he had taken, and with trembling voice demanded the fair 
Isoude for his uncle. 

Argius consented, and soon all was prepared for the depart- 
ure of Isoude. Brengwain, her favorite rnaid-of-honor, was to 
accompany her. On the day of departure the queen took aside 
this devoted attendant, and told her that she had observed 
that her daughter and Tristram were attached to one another, 
and that to avert the bad effects of this inclination she had 
])rocured from a powerful fairy a potent philter (love-draught), 
which she directed Brengwain to administer to Isoude and to 
King Mark on the evening of their marriage. 

Isoude and Tristram embarked together. A favorable wind 
filled the sails and promised them a fortunate voyage. The 
lovers gazed upon one another, and could not repress their 
sighs. Love seemed to light up all his fires on their lips, as 
in their hearts. The day was warm; they suffered from thirst. 



112 KING ARTHUR AND HIS KNIGHTS. 

Isoude first complained. Tristram descried the bottle contain- 
ing the love-draught, which Brengwain had been so imprudent 
as to leave in sight. He took it, gave some of it to the charm- 
-ig Isoude, and drank the remainder himself. The dog Hou- 
d"^"Iri. licked the cup. The ship arrived in Cornwall, and Isoude 
was married to King Mark. The old monarch was delighted 
with his bride, and his gratitude to Tristram was unbounded. 
He loaded liim with honors, and made him chamberlain of his 
palace, thus giving him access to the queen at all times. 

In the midst of the festivities of the court which followed the 
royal marriage, an unknown minstrel one day presented himself, 
bearing a harp of j^eculiar construction. He excited the curiosity 
of King Mark by refusing to play upon it till he should grant 
him a boon. The king having promised to grant his request, the 
minstrel, who was none other than the Saracen knight. Sir Pal- 
amedes, the lover of the fair Isoude, sung to the harp a lay, in 
which he demanded Isoude as the promised gift. King Mark 
could not by the laws of knighthood withhold the boon. The 
lady was mounted on her horse and led away by her triumphant 
lover. Tristram, it is needless to say, was absent at the time, 
and did not return until their departure. When he heard 
what had taken place, he seized his rote, and hastened to the 
shore, where Isoude and her new master had already embarked. 
Tristram played upon his rote, and the sound reached the ears 
of Isoude, who became so deeply affected that Sir Palamedes 
was induced to return with her to land, that they might see 
the unknown musician. Tristram watched his o]>portunity, 
seized the lady's horse by the bridle, and plunged with her into 
the forest, tauntingly informing his rival that " what he had 
got by the harp he had lost by the rote." Palamedes pursued, 
and a combat was about to commence, the result of which 
must have been fatal to one or other of these gallant kniglits ; 
but Isoude stepped between them, and, addressing Palamedes, 
said, " You tell me that you love me ; you will not then deny me 
the request I am about to make ? " " Lady," he replied, " I will 
perform your bidding." " Leave, then," said she, " this contest, 
and repair to King Arthur's court, and salute Queen Guenever 
for me ; tell her that there are in the world but two ladies, 



THE STORY OF TRISTRAM OF LYOXESSE. 113 

herself and I, and two lovers, hers and mme ; and come thou 
not in future in any place where I am." Palaraedes burst into 
tears. "Ah, lady," said he, " I will obey you ; but I beseech 
you that you will not forever steel your heart against me 
"Palamedes," she replied, "may I never taste of joy again A I 
ever quit my first love." Palamedes then went his way. The 
lovers remained a week in concealment, after which Tristram 
restored Isoude to her husband, advising him in future to 
reward minstrels in some other way. 

The king showed much gratitude to Tristram, but in the 
bottom of his heart he cherished bitter jealousy of him. One day 
Tristram and Isoude were alone together in her private chamber. 
A base and cowardly knight of the court, named Andret, spied 
them through a keyhole. They sat at a table of chess, but 
were not attending to the game. Andret brought the king, 
having first raised his suspicions, and placed him so as to watch 
their motions. The king saw enough to confirm his suspicions, 
and he burst into the apartment with his sword drawn, and had 
nearly slain Tristram before he was put on his guard. But 
Tristram avoided the blow, drew his sword, and drove before 
him the cowardly monarch, chasing him through all the apart- 
ments of the palace, giving him frequent blows with the flat 
of his sword, while he cried in vain to his knights to save 
him. They were not inclined, or did not dare to interpose in 
his behalf. 



A proof of the great popularity of the tale of Sir Tristram 
is the fact that the Italian poets, Boiardo and Ariosto, have 
founded upon it the idea of the two enchanted fountains, which 
produced the opposite effects of love and hatred. Boiardo 
thus describes the fountain of hatred : — 

" Fair was that foim ain, sculptured all of gold, 
With alabaster scu ptured, rich and rare ; 
And in its basin cle ir thou might'st behold 
The floweiy marge reflected fresh and fair. 



114. KING ARTHUR AND HIS KNIGHTS. 

Sage Merlin framed the font, — so legends bear, — 

When on fan- Isoude doated Tristram brave, 

That the good errant knight, arriving there. 

Might quaff oblivion in the enchanted wave, 

And leave his luckless love, and 'scape his timeless grave. 

*' But ne'er the warrior's evil fate allowed 
His steps that fountain's charmed verge to gain, 
Though restless, roving on adventure proud, 
He traversed oft the land and oft the main." 




CHAPTER XI. 



TRISTKAM AND ISOUDE. 



AFTER this affair Tristram was banished from the kingdom, 
and Isonde shut up in a tower which stood on the bank of 
a river. Tristram could not resolve to depart without some fur- 
ther communication with his beloved ; so he concealed himself 
in the forest, till at last he contrived to attract her attention 
by means of twigs, which he curiously peeled and sent down 
the stream under her window. By this means many secret 
interviews were obtained. Tristram dwelt in the forest, sus- 
taining himself by game, which the dog Houdain ran down 
for him; for this faithful animal was unequalled in the chase, 
and knew so well his master's wish for concealment that in the 
pursuit of his game he never barked. At length Tristram de- 
parted, but left Houdain with Isoude, as a remembrancer of 
him. 

Sir Tristram wandered through various countries, achieving 
the most perilous enterprises, and covering himself with glory, 

115 



116 KING ARTHUR AND HIS KNIGHTS. 

yet unhappy at the separation from his beloved Isoude. At 
length King Mark's territory was invaded by a neighboring- 
chieftain, and he was forced to summon his nephew to his aid. 
Tristram obeyed the call, put himself at the head of his uncle's 
vassals, and drove the enemy out of the country. Mark was 
full of gratitude, and Tristram, restored to favor and to tlie 
society of his beloved Isoude, seemed at the summit of happi- 
ness. But a sad reverse was at hand. 

Tristram had brought with him a friend named Pheredin, 
son of the king of Brittany. This young knight saw Queen 
Isoude, and could not resist her charms. Knowing the love of 
his friend for tlie queen, and that that love was returned, Phe- 
redin concealed his own, until his health failed, and he feared 
he was drawing near his end. He then wrote to the beautiful 
queen that he was dying for love of her. 

The gentle Isoude, in a moment of pity for the friend of 
Tristram, returned him an answer so kind and compassionate 
that it restored him to life. A few days afterward Tristram 
found this letter. The most terrible jealousy took possession 
of his soul ; he would have slain Pheredin, who with difficulty 
made his escape. Then Tristram mounted his horse, and rode 
to the forest, where for ten days he took no rest nor food. At 
length he was found by a damsel lying almost dead by the 
brink of a fountain. She recognized him, and tried in vain to 
rouse his attention. At last, recollecting his love for music, 
she went and got her harp, and played thereon. Tristram was 
roused from his reverie; tears flowed; he breathed more 
freely ; he took the harp from the maiden, and sung this Lay, 
with a voice broken with sobs : — 

" Sweet I sang in former clays, 
Kind love perfected my lays : 
Now my art alone displays 
The woe that on my being preys. 

" Charming love, delicious power, 
Worshipped from my earliest hour, 
Thou who life on all dost shower. 
Love ! mj- life thou dost devour. 



TRISTRA31 AND ISOUDE. 117 

" lu death's hour I beg of thee, 
Isoude, dearest enemy, . 
Thou wlio erst couldst kinder be, 
When I 'm gone, forget not me. 

" On my gravestone passers by 
Oft will read, as low 1 lie, 
'Never wight in love could vie 
With Tristram, yet she let him die.' " 

Tristram, having finished his lay, wrote it off and gave it to 
the damsel, conjuring her to present it to the queen. 

Meanwhile Queen Isoude was inconsolable at the absence of 
Tristram. She discovered that it was caused by the fatal let- 
ter which she had written to Pheredin. Innocent, but in 
despair at the sad effects of her letter, she wrote another to 
Pheredin, charging him never to see her again. The unhappy 
lover obeyed this cruel decree. He plunged into the forest, 
and died of grief and love in a hermit's cell. 

Isoude passed her days in lamenting the absence and un- 
known fate of Tristram. One day her jealous husband, hav- 
ing entered her chamber unperceived, overheard her singing 
the following lay : — 

•'My voice to piteous Avail is bent, 
My harp to notes of languishment ; 
Ah, love ! delightsome days be meant 
For happier wights, with hearts content. 

"Ah, Tristram ! far away from me, 
Art thou from restless anguish free ? 
Ah ! couldst thou so one moment be, 
From her who so much loveth thee ? " 

The king, hearing these words, burst forth in a rage ; but 
Isoude was too wretched to fear his violence. " You have heard 
me," she said ; " I confess it all. I love Tristram, and always 
shall love him. Without doubt he is dead, and died for me. 
I no longer wish to live. Tlie blow that shall finish my misery 
will be most welcome." 

The king was moved at the distress of the fair Isoude, and 
perhaps the idea of Tristram's death tended to allay his wrath. 
He left the queen in charge of her women, commanding them 



118 KING ARTHUR AND HIS KNIGHTS. 

to take especial care lest her despair should lead her to do harm 
to herself. 

Tristram, meanwhile, distracted as he was, rendered a most 
important service to the shepherds by claying a gigantic robber 
named Taullas, who was in the habit of plundering their flocks 
and rifling their cottages. The shepherds, in their gratitude to 
Tristram, bore him in triumph to King Mark to have him be- 
stow on him a suitable reward. Xo wonder Mark failed to 
recognize in the half-clad wild man before him his nephew 
Tristram ; but grateful for the service the unknown had ren- 
dered, he ordered him to be well taken care of, and gave him 
in charge to the queen and her women. Under such care 
Tristram rapidly recovered his serenity and his health, so that 
the romancer tells us he became handsomer than ever. King 
Mark's jealousy revived with Tristram's health and good looks, 
and, in spite of his debt of gratitude so lately increased, he 
again banished him from the court. 

Sir Tristram left Cornwall, and proceeded into the land of 
Loegria (England) in quest of adventures. One day he en- 
tered a wide forest. The sound of a little bell showed him 
that some inhabitant was near. He followed the sound, and 
found a hermit, who informed him that he was in the forest of 
Arnantes, belonging to the fairy Viviane, the Lady of the Lake, 
who, smitten with love for King Arthur, had found means to 
entice him to this forest, where by enchantments she held him 
a prisoner, having deprived him of all memory of who and 
what he was. The hermit informed him that all the knights 
of tlie Round Table were out in search of the king, and that 
he (Tristram) was now in the scene of the most grand and im- 
portant adventures. 

This was enough to animate Tristram in the search. He 
had not wandered far before he encountered a knight of Ar- 
thur's court, who proved to be Sir Kay the seneschal, who 
demanded of him whence he came. Tristram answering, 
"From Cornwall," Sir Kay did not let slip the opportunity of 
a joke at the expense of the Cornish knight. Tristram chose 
to leave him in his error, and even confirmed him in it; for, 
meeting some other knights, Tristram declined to joust with 



TRISTRAM AND ISOUDE. 119 

them. They spent the night together at an abbey, where Tris- 
tram submitted patiently to all their jokes. The seneschal 
gave the word to his companions that they should set out early 
next day, and intercept- the Cornish knight on his way, and 
enjoy the amusement of seeing his fright when they should 
insist on running a tilt with him. Tristram next mornino; 
found himself alone; he put on his armor, and set out to con- 
tinue his quest. He soon saw before him the seneschal and the 
three knights, Avho barred the way, and insisted on a joust. 
Tristram excused himself a long time; at last he reluctantly 
took his stand. He encountered them, one after the other, and 
overthrew them all four, man and horse, and then rode off, 
bidding them not to forget their friend, the knight of Cornwall. 

Tristran\ had not ridden far when he met a damsel, 
who cried out, "Ah, my lord ! hasten forward, and prevent a 
horrid treason ! " Tristram flew to her assistance, and soon 
reached a spot where he beheld a knight, whom three others 
had borne to the ground, and were unlacing his helmet in order 
to cut off his head. 

Tristram flew to the rescue, and slew with one stroke of his 
lance one of the assailants. The knight, recovering his feet, 
sacrificed another to his vengeance, and the third made his 
escape. The rescued knight then raised the visor of his 
helmet, and a long white beard fell down upon his breast. 
The majesty and venerable air of this knight made Tristram 
suspect that it was none other than Arthur himself, and the 
prince confirmed his conjecture. Tristram would have knelt 
before him, but Arthur received him in his arras, and inquired 
his name and country ; but Tristram declined to disclose them, 
on the plea that he was now on a quest requiring secrecy. At 
this moment the damsel who had brought Tristram to the 
rescue darted forward, and, seizing the king's hand, drew from 
his finger a ring, the gift of the fairy, and by that act dissolved 
the enchantment. Arthur, having recovered his reason and 
his memory, offered to Tristram to attach him to his court, 
and to confer honors and dignities upon him ; but Tristram 
declined all, and only consented to accompany him till he 
should see him safe in the hands of his knights. Soon after. 



120 KING ARTHUR AND HIS KNIGHTS. 

Hector de Marys rode up, and saluted the king, who on his 
part introduced him to Tristram as one of the bravest of his 
knio^hts. Tristram took leave of the kins: and his faithful 
follower, and continued his quest. 

We cannot follow Tristram throus^h all the adventures 
which filled this ej^och of his history. Suffice it to say, he 
fulfilled on all occasions the duty of a true knight, rescuing 
the oppressed, redressing wrongs, abolishing evil customs, and 
sui)pressing injustice, thus by constant action endeavoring to 
lighten the pains of absence from her he loved. In the mean- 
time Isoude, separated from her dear Tristram, passed her 
days in languor and regret. At length she could no longer 
resist the desire to hear some news of her lover. She wrote a 
letter, and sent it by one of her damsels, niece of her faithful 
Brengwain. One day Tristram, weary with his exertions, 
had dismounted and laid himself down by the side of a 
fountain and fallen asleep. The damsel of Queen Isoude 
arrived at the same fountain, and recognized Passebreul, the 
horse of Tristram, and presently perceived his master, asleep. 
He was thin and pale, showing evident marks of the pain 
he suffered in separation from his beloved. She awaked him, 
and gave him the letter which she bore, and Tristram enjoyed 
the pleasure, so sweet to a lover, of hearing from and talking 
about the object of his affections. He prayed the damsel to 
postpone her return till after the magnificent tournament 
which Arthur had proclaimed should have taken place, and 
conducted her to the castle of Persides, a brave and loyal 
knight, who received her with great consideration. 

Tristram conducted the damsel of Queen Isoude to the 
tournament, and had her placed in the balcony among the 
ladies of the queen. He then joined the tourney. Nothing 
could exceed his strength and valor. Launcelot admired him, 
and by a secret presentiment declined to dispute the honor of 
the day with a knight so gallant and so skilful. Arthur 
descended from the balcony to greet the conqueror ; but the 
modest and devoted Tristram, content with having borne off 
the prize in the sight of the messenger of Isoude, made his escape 
with her, and disappeared. 



TRISTRAM AND ISOUDE. 121 

The next day the tourney recommenced. Tristram assumed 
different armor, that he might not be known; but he was 
soon detected by the terrible blows that he gave. Arthur and 
Guenever had no doubt that it was the same knight who had 
borne off the prize of the day before. Arthur's gallant spirit 
was roused. After Launcelot of the Lake and Sir Gawain, he 
was accounted the best knight of the Round Table. He went 
privately and armed himself, and came into the tourney in 
undistinguished armor. He ran a joust with Tristram, whom 
he shook in his seat ; but Tristram, who did not know him, 
threw him out of the saddle. Arthur recovered himself, and, 
content with having made proof of the stranger knight, bade 
Launcelot finish the adventure, and vindicate the honor of the 
Round Table. Sir Launcelot, at the bidding of the monarch, 
assailed Tristram, whose lance was already broken in former 
encounters. But the law of this sort of combat was, that the 
knight, after having broken his lance, must fight with his 
sword, and must not refuse to meet with his shield the lance of 
his antagonist. Tristram met Launcelot's charge upon his 
shield, which that terrible lance could not fail to pierce. It 
inflicted a wound upon Tristram's side, and breaking, left the 
iron in the wound. But Tristram also with his sword smote 
so vigorously on Launcelot's casque that he cleft it, and 
wounded his head. The wound was not deep, but the blood 
flowed into his eyes, and blinded him for a moment, and 
Tristram, who thought himself mortally wounded, retired from 
the field. Launcelot declared to the king that he had never 
received such a blow in his life before. 

Tristram hastened to Gouvernail, his squire, who drew forth 
the iron, bound up the wound, and gave him immediate ease. 
Tristram, after the tournament, kept retired in his tent, but 
Arthur, with the consent of all the knights of the Round Table, 
decreed him the honors of the second day. But it was no 
longer a secret that the victor of the two days was the same 
individual, and Gouvernail, being questioned, confirmed the 
suspicions of Launcelot and Arthur, that it was no other th'an 
Sir Tristram of Lyonesse, the nephew of the king of Cornwall. 

King Arthur, who desired to reward his distino-uished valor, 



122 KING ARTHUR AND HIS KNIGHTS 

and knew that his uncle Mark had ungratefully banished him, 
would have eagerly availed himself of the opportunity to 
attach Tristram to his court, — ail the knights of the Round 
Table declaring with acclamation that it would be impossible 
to find a more worthy companion. But Tristram had already 
departed in search of adventures, and the damsel of Queen 
Isoude returned to her mistress. 




CHAPTER XII. 



THE STORY OF SIR TRISTRAM OF LYONESSE. 



SIR TRISTRAM rode through a forest, and saw ten men 
fiohtino^, and one man did battle ag^ainst nine. So he rode 
to the knights and cried to them, bidding them cease their 
battle, for they did themselves great shame, so many knights to 
fight against one. Then answered the master of the knights 
(Ids name was Sir Breuse sans Pitie, who was at that time the 
most villainous knight living) : " Sir knight, what have ye to 
do to meddle with us ? If ye be wise, dei)art on your way as 
you came, for this knight shall not escape us." " That were 
pity," said Sir Tristram, " that so good a knight should be slain 
so cowardly ; therefore I warn you I will succor him with all 
my puissance." 

Then Sir Tristram alighted off his horse, because they were 
on foot, that they should not slay his horse. And he smote on 
the right hand and on the left so vigorously, that well-nigh at 
every stroke he struck down a knight. At last they fled, with 

123 



124 KING ARTHUR AND HIS KNIGHTS. 

Breuse sans Pitie, into the tower, and shut Sir Tristram with- 
out the gate. Then Sir Tristram returned back to the rescued 
knight, and found him sitting under a tree, sore wounded. 
" Fair knight," said he, " how is it with you ?" " Sir knight," 
said Sir Palamedes, for he it was, " I thank you for your great 
goodness, for ye have rescued me from death." " What is your 
name?" said Sir Tristram. He said, "My name is Sir 
Palamedes." "Say ye so?" said Sir Tristram; "now know 
that thou art the man in the world that I most hate ; therefore 
make thee ready, for I will do battle with thee." " What is 
your name?" said Sir Palamedes.^ "My name is Sir Tristram, 
your mortal enemy." " It may be so," said Sir Palamedes ; 
" but you have done overmuch for me this day, that I should 
fight with you. Moreover, it will be no honor for you to have 
to do with me, for you are fresh and I am wounded. There- 
fore, if you will needs have to do with me, assign me a day, 
and I shall meet you without fail." " You say well," said Sir 
Tristram ; " now I assign you to meet me in the meadow by the 
river of Camelot, where Merlin set the monument." So they 
were agreed. Then they departed, and took their w^ays 
diverse. Sir Tristram passed through a great forest into a 
plain, till he came to a priory, and there he reposed him with a 
good man six days. 

Then departed Sir Tristram, and rode straight into Camelot 
to the monument ot Merlin, and xhere he looked about him for 
Sir Palamedes. And he perceived a seemly knight, who came 
riding against him all in white, with a covered shield. When 
he came nigh. Sir Tristram said aloud, " Welcome, sir knight, 
and well and truly have you kept your promise." Then they 
made ready their shields and spears, and came together with all 
the might of their horses, so fiercely, that both the horses and 
the knights fell to the earth. And as soon as they might, they 
quitted their horses, and struck together with bright swords as 
men of might, and each wounded the other wonderfully sore, 
so that the blood ran out upon the grass. Thus they fought 
for the space of four hours, and never one would speak to the 
other one word. Then at last spake the white knight, and 
said, " Sir, thou fightest wonderful well, as ever I saw knight ; 



STORY OF SIR TRISTRAM OF LYO^'ESSE. 125 

therefore, if it please you, tell me -your name." "Why dost 
thou ask my name ? " said Sir Tristram ; " art thou not Sir 
Palamedes?" "No, fair knight," said he, "I am Sir Launcelot 
of the Lake." " Alas ! " said Sir Tristram, " what have I 
done? for you are the man of the world that I love best." 
"Fair knight," said Sir Launcelot, "tell me your name." 
" Truly," said he, '' my name is Sir Tristram de Lyonesse." 
" Alas ! alas ! " said Sir Launcelot, " what adventure has 
befallen me ! " And therewith Sir Launcelot kneeled down, 
and yielded him up his sword; and Sir Tristram kneeled 
down, and yielded him up his sword ; and so either gave 
other the degree. And then they both went to the stone, and 
sat them down upon it, and took off their helms, and each 
kissed the other a hundred times. And then anon they rode 
toward Camelot, and on the way they met with Sir Gawain 
and Sir Gaheris, that had made promise to Arthur never to 
come again to the court till they had brought Sir Tristram 
with them. 

" Return again," said Sir Launcelot, " for your quest is done ; 
for I have met with Sir Tristram. Lo, here he is in his own 
person." Then was Sir Gawain glad, and said to Sir Tristram, 
" Ye are welcome." With this came King Arthur, and when 
he wist there was Sir Tristram, he ran unto him, and took 
him by the hand, and said, " Sir Tristram ye are as welcome 
as any knight that ever came to this court." Then Sir Tris- 
tram told the king how he came thither for to have had to do 
with Sir Palamedes, and how he had rescued him from Sir 
Breuse sans Pitie and the nine kniohts. Then Kino- Arthur 
took Sir Tristram by the hand, and went to the Table Round, 
and Queen Guenever came, and many ladies with her, and all 
the ladies said with one voice, " Welcome, Sir Tristram." 
"Welcome," said the knights. "Welcome," said Arthur, 
" for one of the best of knights, and the gentlest of the world, 
and the man of most worship; for of all manner of hunting 
thou bearest the prize, and of all measures of blowing thou art 
the beginning, and of all the terms of hunting and hawking ye 
are the inventor, and of all instruments of music ye are the 
best skilled; therefore, gentle knight," said Arthur, "ye are 



126 KING ARTHUK AND HIS KNIGHTS. 



welcome to this court." And then King Arthur made Sir 
Tristram knight of the Table Round with great nobley and 
feasting as can be thought. 

The Round Table had been made by the famous enchanter 
Merlin, and on it he had exerted all his skill and craft. Of 
the seats which surrounded it he had constructed thirteen, in 
memory of the thirteen Apostles. Twelve of these seats only 
could be occupied, and they only by knights of the highest 
fame ; the thirteenth represented the seat of the traitor Judas. 
It remained always empty. It was called the perilous seat 
ever since a rash and haughty Saracen knight had dared to 
place himself in it, when the earth opened and swallowed 
him up. 

A magic power wrote upon each seat the name of the knight 
who was entitled to sit in it. No one could succeed to a vacant 
seat unless he surpassed in valor and glorious deeds the knight 
who had occupied it before him ; without this qualification he 
would be violently repelled by a hidden force. Thus proof 
was made of all those who presented themselves to replace 
any companions of the order who had fallen. 

One of the principal seats, that of Moraunt of Ireland, had 
been vacant ten years, and his name still remained over it ever 
since the time when that distinguished champion fell beneath 
the sword of Sir Tristram. Arthur now took Tristram by the 
hand and led him to that seat. Immediately the most melo- 
dious sounds were heard, and exquisite perfumes filled the 
place ; the name of Moraunt disappeared, and that of Tristram 
blazed forth in light. The rare modesty of Tristram had now 
to be subjected to a severe task ; for the clerks charged with 
the duty of preserving the annals of the Round Table attended, 
and he was required by the law of his order to declare what 
feats of arms he had accomplished to entitle him to take that 
seat. This ceremony being ended, Tristram received the con- 
gratulations of all his companions. Sir Launcelot and Guen- 
ever took the occasion to speak to him of the fair Isoude, and 
to express their wish that some happy chance might bring her 
to the kingdom of Loegria. 

While Tristram was thus honored and caressed at the court 



STORY OF SIR TRISTRAM OF LYONESSE. 127 

of King Arthur, the most gloomy and malignant jealousy 
harassed the soul of Mark. He . could not look upon Isoude 
without remembering that she loved Tristram, and the good 
fortune of his nephew goaded him to thoughts of A^engeance. 
He at last resolved to go disguised into the kingdom of Loe- 
gria, attack Tristram by stealth, and put him to death. He 
took with him two knights, brought up in his court, who he 
thought were devoted to liim ; and, not willing to leave Isoude 
behind, named two of her maidens to attend her, together 
with her faithful Brengwain, and made them accompany him. 

Having arrived in the neighborhood of Camelot, Mark im- 
parted his plan to his two knights, but they rejected it with 
horror ; nay, more, they declared that they would no longer 
remain in his service ; and left him, giving him reason to sup- 
pose that they should repair to the court to accuse him before 
Arthur. It was necessary for Mark to meet and rebut their 
accusation; so, leaving Isoude in an abbey, he i3ursued his way 
alone to Camelot. 

Mark had not ridden far when he encountered a party of 
knights of Arthur's court, and would have avoided them, for 
he knew their habit of challenging to a joust every stranger 
knight whom they met. But it was too late. They had seen 
his armor, and recognized him as a Cornish knight, and at once 
resolved to have some sport with him. It happened they had 
with them, Daguenet, King Arthur's fool, who, though de- 
formed and weak of body, was not wanting in courage. The 
knights as Mark" approached laid their plan that Daguenet 
should personate Sir Launcelot of the Lake, and challenge the 
Cornish knight. They equipped him in armor belonging to 
one of their number who was ill, and sent him forward to the 
cross-road to defy the strange knight. Mark, who saw that his 
antagonist was by no means formidable in appearance, was not 
disinclined to the combat ; but when the dwarf rode towards 
him, calling out that he was Sir Launcelot of the Lake, his 
fears prevailed, he put spurs to his horse, and rode away at full 
speed, pursued by the shouts and laughter of the party. 

Meanwhile Isoude, remaining at the abbey with her faithful 
Brengwain, found her only amusement in walking occasionally 



128 KING ARTHUR AND HIS KNIGHTS. 

in a forest adjoining the abbey. There, on the brink of a foun- 
tain girdled with trees, she thought of her love, and sometimes 
joined her voice and her harp in lays reviving the memory of 
its pains or pleasures. One day the caitiff knight, Breuse the 
Pitiless, heard her voice, concealed himself, and drew near. 
She sang : — 

" Sweet silence, shadowy bower, and verdant lair, 
Ye court my troubled spirit to repose, 
Whilst I, such dear remembrance rises there, 
Awaken every echo with my woes. 

'* Within these woods, by Nature's hand arrayed, 

A fountain springs, and feeds a thousand flowers ; 
Ah ! how my groans do all its murmurs aid ! 
How my sad eyes do swell it with their showers ! 

" What doth my knight the while ? to him is given 
A double meed; in love and arms' emprise, 
^ Him the Round Table elevates to heaven ! 

Tristram ! ah me ! he hears not Isoude's cries. 

Breuse the Pitiless, who, like most other caitiffs, had felt the 
weight of Tristram's arm, and hated him accordingly, at hear- 
ing his name breathed forth by the beautiful songstress, im- 
pelled by a double impulse, rushed forth from his concealment 
and laid hands on his victim. Isoude fainted, and Brengwain 
filled the air witli her shrieks. Breuse carried Isoude to the 
place where he had left his horse ; but the animal had got away 
from his bridle, and was at some distance. He was obliged to 
lay down his fair burden, and go in pursuit of his horse. Just 
then a knight came up, drawn by the cries of Brengwain, and 
demanded the cause of her distress. She could not speak, but 
pointed to her mistress lying insensible on the ground. 

Breuse had by this time returned, and the cries of Breng- 
wain, renewed at seeing him, sufficiently showed the stranger 
the cause of the distress. Tristram spurred his horse towards 
Breuse, who, not unprepared, ran to the encounter. Breuse 
was unhorsed, and lay motionless, pretending to be dead ; but 
when the stranger knight left him to attend to the distressed 
damsels, he mounted his horse, and made his escape. 

The knight now approached Isoude, gently raised her head. 



STORY OF SIR TRISTRAM OF LYONESSE. 129 

drew aside the golden hair which covered her countenance, 
gazed thereon for an instant, uttered a cry, and fell back in- 
sensible. Brengwain came ; her cares soon restored her mis- 
tress to life, and they then turned their attention to the fallen 
warrior. They raised his visor, and discovered the counte- 
nance of Sir Tristram. Isoude threw herself on the body of 
her lover, and bedewed his face with her tears. Their warmth 
revived the knight, and Tristram, on awaking, found himself in 
the arms of his dear Isoude. 

It was the law of the Round Table that each knight after 
his admission should pass the next ten days in quest of adven- 
tures, during which time his companions might meet him in 
disguised armor, and try tlieir strength with him. Tristram 
had now been out seven days, and in that time had encountered 
many of the best knights of the Round Table, and acquitted 
himself with honor. During the remaining three days Isoude, 
remained at the abbey, under his protection, and then set out 
with her maidens, escorted by Sir Tristram, to rejoin King 
Mark at the court of Camelot. 

This happy journey was one of the brightest epochs in the 
lives of Tristram and Isoude. He celebrated it by a lay upon 
the harp in a peculiar measure, to which the French give the 
name of Triolet : — 

" With fair Isoude, and with love, 
Ah ! how sweet the life I lead ! 
How blest forever thus to rove, 
With fair Isoude, and with love ! 
As she wills, I live and move, 
And cloudless days to days succeed : 
With fair Isoude, and with love, 
Ah ! how sweet the life I lead ! 



" Journeying' on from break of day, 
Feel you not fatigued, my fair ? 
Yon green turf invites to play ; 
Journeying on from day to day, 
Ah ! let us to that shade away. 
Were it but to slumber there ! 
Journeying on from break of day, 
Feel you not fatigued, my fair ? " 



130 KING ARTHUR AND HIS KNIGHTS. 

They arrived at Camelot, where Sir Laimcelot received them 
most cordially. Isoude was introduced to King Arthur and 
Queen Guenever, who welcomed her as a sister. As King 
Mark was held in arrest under the accusation of the two 
Cornish knights, Queen Isoude could not rejoin her husband, 
and Sir Launcelot placed his castle of La Joyeuse Garde at 
the disposal of his friends, who there took up their abode. 

King Mark, who found himself obliged to confess the truth 
of the charge against him, or to clear himself by combat with 
his accusers, preferred the former, and King Arthur, as his 
crime had not been perpetrated, remitted the penalty, only 
enjoining upon him, under pain of his signal displeasure, to 
lay aside all thoughts of vengeance against his nephew. In 
the presence of the king and his court, all parties were formally 
reconciled ; Mark and his queen departed for their home, and 
Tristram remained at Arthur's court. 




CHAPTER Xni, 



END OF THE STORY OF SIR TRISTRAM OF LYONESSE. 



WHILE Sir Tristram and the fair Isoude abode yet at La 
Joyeuse Garde, Sir Tristram rode forth one day, with- 
out armor, having no weapon but his spear and his sword. 
And as he rode he came to a place where he saw two knights 
in battle, and one of them had gotten the better, and the other 
lay overthrown. The knight who had the better was Sir 
Palamedes. When Sir Palamedes knew Sir Tristram, he 
cried out, " Sir Tristram, now we be met, and ere we depart 
we will redress our old wrongs." "As for that," said Sir 
Tristram, "there never yet was Christian man that might 
make his boast that T ever fled from him, and thou that art a 
Saracen shalt never say that of me." And therewith Sir 
Tristram made his horse to run, and with all his might came 
straight upon Sir Palamedes, and broke his spear upon him. 
Then he drew his sword and struck at Sir Palamedes six great 
strokes, upon his helm. Sir Palamedes saw that Sir Tristram 
had not his armor on, and he marvelled at his rashness and his 

131 



132 KING ARTHUR AND HIS KNIGHTS. 

great folly ; and said to himself, " If I meet and slay him I am 
ashamed wheresoever I go." Then Sir Tristram cried out and 
said, " Thou coward knight, why wilt thou not do battle with 
me? for have thou no doubt I shall endure all thy malice." 
" Ah, Sir Tristram ! " said Sir Palarnedes, " thou knowest 
I may not fight with thee for shame ; for thou art here naked, 
and I am armed ; now I require that thou answer me a 
question that I shall ask you." "Tell me what it is," said 
Sir Tristram. " I put the case," said Sir Palarnedes, " that 
you were well armed, and I naked as ye be ; what would you 
do to me now, by your true knighthood ? " " Ah ! " said Sir 
Tristram, "now I understand thee well. Sir Palarnedes ; and, 
as God me bless, what I shall say shall not be said for fear that 
I have of thee. But if "it were so, thou shouldest dej^art from 
me, for I would not have to do with thee." " No more will I 
with thee," said Sir Palarnedes, " and therefore ride forth on 
thy way." " As for that, I may choose," said Sir Tristram, 
" either to ride or to abide. But, Sir Palamedes, I marvel at 
one thing, — that thou art so good a knight, yet that thou wilt 
not be christened." " As for that," said Sir Palamedes, " I 
may not yet be christened, for a vow which I made many years 
ago ; yet in my heart I believe in our Saviour and his mild 
mother Mary ; but I have yet one battle to do, and when that 
is done I will be christened, with a good will." "By my 
head," said Sir Tristram, " as for that one battle, thou shalt 
seek it no longer; for yonder is a knight, whom you have 
smitten down. Now help me to be clothed in his armor, and I 
will soon fulfil thy vow." " As ye will," said Sir Palamedes, 
'' so shall it be." So they rode both unto that knight that sat 
on a bank ; and Sir Tristram saluted him, and he full weakly 
saluted him again. " Sir," said Sir Tristram, " I pray you to 
lend me your whole armor ; ^or I am unarmed, and I must do 
battle with this knight." " Sir," said the hurt knight, " you 
shall have it, with a right good will." Then Sir Tristram 
unarmed Sir Galleron, for that was the name of the hurt 
knight, and he as well as he could helped to arm Sir Tristram. 
Then Sir Tristram mounted upon his own horse, and in his 
hand he took Sir Galleron's spear. Thereupon Sir Palamedes 



STORY OF SIR TRISTRAM OF LYOXESSE. 133 

was ready, and so they came hurtling together, and each smote 
the other in the midst of their shields. Sir Palamedes' 
spear broke, and Sir Tristram smote down the horse. Then Sir 
Palamedes leapt from his horse, and drew out his sword. That 
saw Sir Tristram, and therewith he alighted and tied his horse 
to a tree. Then they came together as two wdld beasts, 
lashing the one on the other, and so fought more than two 
hours ; and often Sir Tristram smote such strokes at Sir 
Palamedes that he made him to kneel, and Sir Palamedes 
broke away Sir Tristram's shield, and w^ounded him. Then 
Sir Tristram was wroth out of measure, and he rushed to Sir 
Palamedes and wounded him passing sore through the 
shoulder, and by fortune smote Sir Palamedes' sword out of 
his hand. And if Sir Palamedes had stooped for his sword, 
Sir Tristram had slain him. Then Sir Palamedes stood and 
beheld his sword with a full sorrow^ful heart. " Xow," said 
Sir Tristram, " I have thee at a vantage, as thou hadst me 
to-day ; but it shall never be said, in court, or among good 
knights, that Sir Tristram did slay any knight that was 
weaponless : therefore take thou thy sword, and let us fight 
this battle to the end." Then spoke Sir Palamedes to Sir 
Tristram : " I have no wdsh to fight this battle any more. The 
offence that I have done unto you is not so great but that, if it 
please you, we may be friends. All that I have offended is for 
the love of the queen. La Belle Isoude, and I dare maintain 
that she is peerless among ladies ; and for that offence ye have 
given me many grievous and sad strokes, and some I have 
given you again. Wherefore I require you, my lord Sir 
Tristram, forgive me all that I have offended you, and this 
day have me unto the next church ; and first I will be clean 
confessed, and after that see you that I be truly baptized, and 
then we will ride together unto the court of ray lord, King 
Arthur, so that we may be there at the feast of Pentecost." 
" Now take your horse," said Sir Tristram, " and as you have 
said, so shall it be done." So they took their horses, and Sir 
Galleron rode with them. When they came to the church of 
Carlisle, the bishop commanded to fill a great vessel with water ; 
and when he had hallowed it, he then confessed Sir Palamedes. 



134 • KING ARTHUR AND HIS KNIGHTS. 

clean, and christened him ; and Sir Tristram and Sir Galleron 
were his godfathers. Then soon after they departed, and rode 
toward Camelot, where the noble King Arthur and Queen 
Guenever were keeping a court royal. And the king and all 
the court were glad that Sir Palamedes was christened. Then 
Sir Tristrant returned again to La Joyeuse Garde, and Sir 
Palamedes went his way 

Not long after these events Sir Gawain returned from 
Brittany, and related to King Arthur the adventure which 
befell him in the forest of Breciliande, — how Merlin had there 
spoken to him, and enjoined him to charge the king to go 
without delay upon the quest of the Holy Greal. While King 
Arthur deliberated, Tristram determined to enter upon the 
quest, and the more readily, as it was well known to him that 
this holy adventure would, if achieved, procure him the pardon 
of all his sins. He immediately departed for the kingdom of 
Brittany, hoping there to obtain from Merlin counsel as to the 
proper course to pursue to insure success. 

On arriving in Brittany Tristram found King Hoel engaged 
in a war with a rebellious vassal, and hard pressed by his 
enemy. His best knights had fallen in a late battle, and he 
knew not where to turn for assistance. Tristram volunteered 
his aid. It was accepted ; and the army of Hoel, led by Tris- 
tram, and inspired by his example, gained a complete victory. 
The king, penetrated by the most lively sentiments of gratitude, 
and having informed himself of Tristram's birth, offered him 
his daughter in marriage. The princess was beautiful and ac- 
complished, and bore the same name with the Queen of Corn- 
wall ; but this one is designated by the Romancers as Isoude 
of the White Hands, to distinguish her from Isoude the Fair. 

How can we describe the conflict that agitated the heart of 
Tristram ? He adored the first Isoude, but his love for her 
was hopeless, and not unaccompanied by remorse. Moreover, 
the sacred quest on which he had now entered demanded of 
him perfect purity of life. It seemed as if a happy destiny 
had provided for him, in the charming princess Isoude of the 
White Hands, the best security for all his good resolutions. 
This last reflection determined him. They were married, and 



STORY OF SIR TRISTRAM OF LYONESSE. 135 

passed some months in tranquil happiness at the court of King 
Hoel, The pleasure which Tristram felt in his wife's society 
increased day by day. An inward grace seemed to stir within 
him from the moment when he took the oath to go on the quest 
of the Holy Greal ; it seemed even to triumph over the power 
of the magic love-potion. 

The war, which had been quelled for a time, now burst out 
anew. Tristram, as usual, was foremost in every danger. The 
enomy was worsted in successive conflicts, and at last shut 
himself up in his principal city. Tristram led on the attack 
of the city. As he mounted a ladder to scale the walls, he was 
struck on the head by a fragment of rock, which the besieged 
threw down upon him. It bore him to the ground, where he 
lay insensible. 

As soon as he recovered consciousness, he demanded to be 
carried to his wife. The princess, skilled in the art of surgery, 
would not suffer any one but herself to touch her beloved hus- 
band. Her fair hands bound up his wounds ; Tristram kissed 
them with gratitude, which began to grow into love. At first 
the devoted cares of Isoude seemed to meet with great success; 
but after awhile these flattering appearances vanished, and, in 
spite of all her care, the malady grew more serious day by day. 

In this perplexity, an old squire of Tristram's reminded his 
master that the princess of Ireland, afterward queen of Corn- 
wall, had once cured him under circumstances quite as discour- 
aging. He called Isoude of the White Hands to him, told her 
of his former cure, added that he believed that the Queen 
Isoude could heal him, and that he felt sure that she would come 
to his relief if sent for. 

Isoude of the White Hands consented that Gesnes, a trusty 
man and skilful navigator, should be sent to Cornwall. Tris- 
tram called him, and, giving him a ring, " Take this," he said, 
" to the Queen of Cornwall. Tell her that Tristram, near to 
death, demands her aid. If you succeed in bringing her with 
you, place white sails to your vessel on your return, that we 
may know of your success when the vessel first heaves in sight. 
But if Queen Isoude refuses, put on black sails ; they will be 
the presage of my impending death." 



136 KING ARTHUR AND HIS KNIGHTS. 

Gesnes performed his mission successfully. King Mark hap- 
pened to be absent from his capital, and the queen readily con- 
sented to return with the bark to Brittany. Gesnes clothed 
his vessel in the whitest of sails, and sped his w^ay back to 
Brittany. 

Meantime the wound of Tristram grew more desperate day 
by day. His strength, quite prostrated, no longer permitted 
him to be carried to the seaside daily, as had been his custom 
from the first moment when it was possible for the bark to be 
on the way homeward. He called a young damsel, and gave 
her in charge to keep watch in the direction of Cornwall, and 
to come and tell him the color of the sails of the first vessel 
she should see approaching. 

When Isoude of the White Hands consented that the queen 
of Cornwall should be sent for, she had not known all the rea- 
sons which she had for fearing the influence which renewed 
intercourse with that princess might have on her own happi- 
ness. She had now^ learned more, and felt the danger more 
keenly. She thought, if she could only keep the knowledge of 
the queen's arrival from her husband, she might employ in his 
service any resources which her skill could supply, and still 
avert the dangers which she apprehended. When the vessel 
was seen approaching, with its white sails sparkling in the sun, 
the damsel, by command of her mistress, carried word to Tris- 
tram that the sails were black. 

Tristram, penetrated with inexpressible grief, breathed a 
profound sigh, turned away his face, and said, " Alas, my be- 
loved ! w^e shall never see one another again ! " Then he com- 
mended himself to God, and brealhed his last. 

The death of Tristram was the first intelligence which the 
queen of Cornwall heard on landing. She was conducted almost 
senseless into the chamber of Tristram, and expired holding 
him in her arms. 

Tristram, before his death, had requested that his body should 
be sent to Cornwall, and that his sword, with a letter he had 
written, should be delivered to King Mark. The remains of 
Tristram and Isoude were embarked in a vessel, along with the 
sword, which was presented to the king of Cornwall. He was 



STORY OF SIR TRISTRAM OF LYONESSE. 137 

melted with tenderness when he saw the weapon which slew 
Moraunt of Ireland, — which had so often saved his life, and 
redeemed the honor of his kingdom. In the letter Tristram 
begged pardon of his uncle, and related the story of the amor- 
ous draught. 

Mark ordered the lovers to be buried in his own chaj)el. 
From the tomb of Tristram there sprung a vine, which went 
along the walls, and descended into the grave of the queen. 
It was cut down three times, but each time sprung up again 
more vigorous than before, and this wonderful plant has ever 
since shaded the tombs of Tristram and Isoude. 



Spenser introduces Sir Tristram in his Faery Queene. In 
Book Via, Canto ii., Sir Calidore encounters in the forest a 
young hunter, whom he thus describes : — 

"Him steadfastly he marked, and saw to be 
A goodly youth of amiable grace, 
Yet but a slender slip, that scarce did see 
Yet seventeen yeares ; but tall and faire of face, 
That sure he deemed him boime of noble race. 
All in a -woodman's jacket he was clad 
Of Lincoln greene, belayed with silver lace ; 
And on his head an hood with aglets * sprad. 

And by his side his hunter's home he hanging had. 

" Buskins he wore of costliest cordawayne, 

Pinckt upon gold, and paled part per part,t 

As then the guize was for each gentle swayne, 

In his right hand he held a trembling dart, 

"Whose fellow he before had sent apart ; 

And in his left he held a sharp bore-speare, 

With which he wont to launch the salvage heart 

Of many a lyon, and of many a beare, 
That first unto his hand in chase did happen neare." 

* Aglets, points or tags. 

t Pinckt upon gold, etc., adorned with golden points, or eyelets, and regularly 
intersected with stripes. Paled (in heraldry) , striped. 



138 KING ARTHUR AND HIS KNIGHTS. 

Tristram is often alluded to by the Romancers as the great 
authority and model in all matters relating to the chase. In 
the Faery Queene, Tristram, in answer to the inquiries of Sir 
Calidore, informs him of his name and parentage, and 
concludes : — 

" All which my days I have not lewdly spent, 
Nor spilt the blossom of my tender years 
In idlesse ; but, as was convenient, 
Have trained been with many noble feres 
In gentle thewes, and such like seemly leers ; * 
'Mongst which my most delight hath always been 
To hunt the salvage chace, amongst my peers, 
Of all that rangeth in the forest green 
Of which none is to me unknown that yet was seen. 

*' Ne is there hawk which mantleth on her perch, 
Whether high towering or accosting low, 
But I the measure of her flight do search. 
And all her prey, and all her diet know. 
Such be our joys, which in these forests grow." 

* Feres, companions ; thewes, labors ; leers, learning. 




CHAPTER XIY. 



THE STORY OF PERCEVAL. 



Sii' Pei-civale, 



"Whom Arthur and his knighthood called the Pure." 

Tennyson. 

THE father and two elder brothers of Perceval had fallen 
in battle or tournaments, and hence, as the last hope of 
his family, his mother retired with him into a solitary region, 
where he was brought up in total ignorance of arms and chiv- 
alry. He was allowed no weapon but " a lyttel Scots spere," 
which was the only thing of all " her lordes faire gere " that 
his mother carried to the wood with her. In the use of this 
he became so skilful that he could kill with it not only the ani- 
mals of the chase for her table, but even birds on the wing. 
At length, however, Perceval was roused to a desire of mili- 
tary renown by seeing in the forest five knights who were in 
complete armor. He said to his mother, " Mother, what are 
those yonder ? " " They are angels, my son," said she. " By my 
faith, I will go and become an angel with them." And Perce- 
val went to the road and met them. " Tell me, good lad," said 

139 



140 KING AETHUR AND HIS KNIGHTS. 

one of them, " sawest thou a knight pass this way either to-day 
or yesterday?" "I know not," said he, "what a knight is." 
" Such an one as I am," said the knight. " If thou wilt tell 
me what I ask thee, I will tell thee what thou askest me." 
" Gladly will I do so," said Sir Owain, for that was the knight's 
name. "What is this?" demanded Perceval, touching the 
saddle. " It is a saddle," said Owain. Then he asked 
about all the accoutrements which he saw upon the men and 
the horses, and about the arms, and what they were for, and 
how they were used. And Sir Owain showed him all those 
things fully. And Perceval in return gave him such informa- 
tion as he had. 

Then Perceval returned to his mother, and said to her, 
"Mother, those were not angels, but honorable knights." 
Then his mother swooned away. And Perceval went to the 
place where they kept the horses that carried firewood and 
provisions for the castle, and he took a bony, piebald horse, 
which seemed to him the strongest of them. And he pressed 
a pack into the form of a saddle, and with twisted twigs he 
imitated the trappings which he had seen upon the horses. 
When he came again to his mother the countess had recovered 
from her swoon. " My son," said she, " desirest thou to ride 
forth ? " " Yes, with thy leave," said he. " Go forward then," 
she said, " to the court of Arthur, where there are the best and 
the noblest and the most bountiful of men, and tell him thou 
art Perceval, the son of Pelenore, and ask of him to bestow 
knighthood on thee. And whenever thou seest a church, 
repeat there thy pater-noster ; and if thou see meat and drink, 
and hast need of them, thou mayest- take them. If thou hear 
an outcry of one in distress, proceed toward it, especially if it 
be the cry of a woman, and render her what service thou canst. 
If thou see a fair jewel, win it, for thus shalt thou acquire 
fame ; yet freely give it to another, for thus thou shalt obtain 
praise. If thou see a fair woman, pay court to her, for thus 
thou wilt obtain love." 

After this discourse Perceval mounted the horse, and, taking 
a number of sharp-pointed sticks in his hand, he rode forth. 
And he rode far in the woody wilderness without food or drink. 



THE STOKY OF PERCEVAL. 141 

At last he came to an opening in tlie wood, where he saw a 
tent, and as he thought it might be a church he said his pater- 
noster to it. And he went toward it ; and the door of the 
tent was open. And Perceval dismounted and entered the 
tent. In the tent he found a maiden sitting, with a golden 
frontlet on her forehead and a gold ring on her hand. And 
Perceval said, "Maiden, I salute you, for my mother told me 
whenever I met a lady I must respectfully salute her." Per- 
ceiving in one corner of the tent some food, two flasks full of 
wine, and some boar's flesh roasted, he said, "My mother told, 
me, wherever I saw meat and drink to take it." And he ate 
greedily, for he was very hungry. " Sir, thou hadst best go 
quickly from, here, for fear that my friends should come, and 
evil should befall you." But Perceval said, " My mother told 
me wheresoever I saw a fair jewel to take it," and he took the 
gold, ring from her finger, and put it on his own; and he gave 
the maiden his own ring in exchange for hers ; then he mounted 
his horse and rode away. 

Perceval journeyed on till he arrived at Arthur's court. 
And it so happened that just at that time an uncourteous 
knight had offered Queen Guenever a gross insult. For when 
her page was serving the queen with a golden goblet, this 
knight struck the arm of the page and dashed the wine in the 
queen's face and over her stomacher. Then he said, " If any 
have boldness to avenge this insult to Guenever, let him follow 
me to the meadow." So the knight took his horse and rode 
to the meadow, carrying away the golden goblet. And all the 
household hung down their heads, and no one offered to follow 
the knight to take vengeance upon him. For it seemed to 
them that no one would have ventured on so daring an outrage 
unless he possessed such powers, through magic or charms, 
that none could be able to punish him. Just then, behold, 
Perceval entered the hall upon the bony, piebald horse, with 
his uncouth trappings. In the centre of the hall stood Kay 
the seneschal. " Tell me, tall man," said Perceval, " is that 
Arthur yonder?" "What wouldst thou with Arthur?" asked 
Kay. "My mother told me to go to Arthur and receive 
knighthood from him." "By my faith," said he, "thou art all 



142 KING ARTHUR AND HIS KNIGHTS. 

too meanly equipped with horse and with arms." Then all the 
household began to jeer and laugh at him. But there was a 
certain damsel who had been a whole year at Arthur's court, 
and had never been known to smile. And the king's fool* 
had said that this damsel would not smile till she had seen him 
who would be the flower of chivalry. I^ow this damsel came 
up to Perceval and told him, smiling, that, if he lived, he 
would be one of the bravest and best of knights. " Truly," 
said Kay, "thou art ill taught to remain a year at Arthur's 
court, with choice of society, and smile on no one, and now 
before the face of Arthur and all his knights to call such a man 
as this the flower of knighthood ; " and he gave her a box on 
the ear, that she fell senseless to the ground. Then said Kay 
to Perceval, " Go after the knight who went hence to the 
meadow, overthrow him and recover the golden goblet, and 
possess thyself of his horse and arms, and thou shalt have 
knighthood." "I will do so, tall man," said Perceval. So he 
turned his horse's head toward the meadow. And when he 
came there, the knight was riding up and down, proud of his 
strength and valor and noble mien. " Tell me," said the 
knight, " didst thou see any one coming after me from the 
court ? " " The tall man that was there," said Perceval, " told 
me to come and overthrow thee, and to take from thee the 
goblet and thy horse and armor for myself." " Silence ! " said 
the knight ; " go back to the court, and tell Arthur either to 
come himself, or to send some other to fight with me ; and 
unless he do so quickly, I will not wait for him." " By my 
faith," said Perceval, " choose thou whether it shall be will- 
ingly or unwillingly, for I will have the horse and the arms 
and the goblet." Upon this the knight ran at him furiously, 
and struck him a violent blow with the shaft of his spear, 
between the neck and the shoulder. " Ha, ha, lad ! " said Per- 
ceval, " my mother's servants were not used to play with me 

* A fool was a common appendage of the courts of those days when this ro- 
mance was written. A fool was the ornament held in next estimation to a dwarf. 
He wore a white dress with a yellow bonnet, and carried a bell or hawhle in his 
hand. Though called a fool, his words were often weighed and remembered as 
if there were a sort of oracular meaning in them. 



THE STORY OF PERCEVAL. 143 

in this wise; so thus will I play with thee." And he threw at 
him one of his sharp-pointed sticks, and it struck him in the 
eye, and came out at the back of his head, so that he fell down 
lifeless. 

But at the court of Arthur, Sir Owain said to Kay, " Yerily, 
thou wert ill advised when thou didst send that madman after 
the knight. For one of two things must befall him. He must 
either be overthrown or slain. If he is overthrown by the knight, 
he will be counted by him to be an honorable person of the court, 
and an eternal disgrace will it be to Arthur and his warriors. 
And if he is slain, the disgrace will be the same, and moreover 
his sin will be upon him ; therefore will I go to see what has 
befallen him." So Sir Owain went to the meadow, and he found 
Perceval dragging the man about. "What art thou doing 
thus?" said Sir Owain. " This iron coat," said Perceval, " will 
never come from off him; not by my efforts, at any rate." 
And Sir Owain unfastened his armor and his clothes. " Here, 
my good soul," said he, "is a horse and armor better than 
thine. Take them joyfully, and come with me to Arthur to 
receive the order of knighthood, for thou dost merit it." And 
Owain helped Perceval to put it on, and taught him how to 
put his foot in the stirrup, and use the spur ; for Perceval had 
never used stirrup nor spur, but rode without saddle, and 
urged on his horse with a stick. Then Owain would have had 
him return to the court to receive the praise that was his due; 
but Perceval said, "I will not come to the court till I have 
encountered the tall man that is there, to revenge the injury 
he did to the maiden. But take thou the goblet to Queen 
Guenever, and tell King Arthur that, wherever I am, I will be 
his vassal, and will do him what profit and service I can." And 
Sir Owain went back to the court, and related all these things 
to Arthur and Guenever, and to all the household. 

And Perceval rode forward. And as he proceeded, behold 
a knight met him. " Whence comest thou ? " said the knight. 
" I come from Arthur's court," said Perceval. " Art thou one 
of his men ? " asked he. " Yes, by my faith," he answered. 
" A good service, truly, is that of Arthur." " Wherefore say- 
est thou so ? " said Perceval. " I will tell thee," said he. " I 



144 KING ARTHUR AND HIS KNIGHTS. 

have always been Arthur's enemy, and all such of his men as 
I have ever encountered I have slain." And without further 
parlance they fought, and it was not long before Perceval 
brought him to the ground, over his horse's crupper. Then 
the knight besought his mercy. "Mercy thou shalt have," 
said Perceval, " if thou wilt make oath to me that thou wilt 
go to Arthur's court and tell him that it was I that overthrew 
thee, for the honor of his service ; and say that I will never 
come to the court until I have avenged the insult offered to the 
maiden." The knight pledged him his faith of this, and pro- 
ceeded to the court of Arthur and said as he had promised, 
and conveyed the threat to Sir Kay. 

And Perceval rode forward. And within that week he 
encountered sixteen knights, and overthrew them all shame- 
fully. And they all went to Arthur's court, taking with them 
the same message which the first knight had conveyed from 
Perceval, and the same threat which he had sent to Sir Kay. 
And thereupon Sir Kay was reproved by Arthur; and Sir 
Kay was greatly grieved thereat. 

And Perceval rode forward. And he came to a lake, on the 
side of which was a fair castle, and on the border of the lake 
he saw a hoary-headed man sitting upon a velvet cushion, and 
his attendants were fishing in the lake. When the hoary- 
headed man beheld Perceval approaching, he arose and went 
into the castle. Perceval rode to the castle, and the door was 
open, and he entered the hall. And the hoary-headed man 
received Perceval courteously, and asked him to sit by him on 
the cushion. When it was time, tlie tables were set, and they 
went to meat. And when they had finished their meat, the 
hoary-headed man asked Perceval if he knew how to fight 
with the sword. "I know not," said Perceval, "but were I to 
be taught, doubtless I should." "Whoever can play well with 
the cudgel and shield will also be able to fight with a sword." 
And the man had two sons ; the one had yellow hair and the 
other auburn. "Arise, youths," said the old man, "and play 
with the cudgel and the shield." And so did they. "Tell 
me, my son," said the man, " which of the youths thinkest 
thou plays best ? " "I think," said Perceval, " that the yellow- 



THE STORY OF PERCEVAL. 145 

haired youth could draw blood if he chose." "Arise thou, 
then, and take the cudgel and the shield from the hand of the 
youth with the auburn hair, and draw blood from the yellow- 
haired youth if thou canst." So Perceval arose, and he lifted 
up his arm, and struck him such a mighty blow that he cut 
his forehead open from one side to the other. "Ah, my life," 
said the old man, " come, now, and sit down, for thou wilt 
become the best fighter with the sword of any in this island ; 
and I am thy uncle, thy mother's brother ; I am called King 
Pecheur.* Thou shalt remain with me a space, in order to 
learn the manners and customs of different countries, and 
courtesy and noble bearing. And this do thou remember : if 
thou seest aught to cause thy wonder, ask not the meaning of 
it; if no one has the courtesy to inform thee, the reproach 
will not fall upon thee, but upon me that am thy teacher." 
While Perceval and his uncle discoursed together, Perceval 
beheld two youths enter the hall, bearing a golden cup and a 
spear of mighty size, with blood dropping from its point to 
the "ground. And when all the company saw this, they began 
to weep and lament. But for all that, the man did not break 
off his discourse with Perceval. And as he did not tell him 
the meaning of what he saw, he forbore to ask him concerning 
it. Now the cup that Perceval saw was the Sangreal, and the 
spear the sacred spear ; and afterwards King Pecheur removed 
with those sacred relics into a far country. 

One evening Perceval entered a valley, and came to a her- 
mit's cell ; and the hermit welcomed him gladly, and there he 
spent the night. And in the morning he arose, and when he 
went forth, behold ! a shower of snow had fallen in the night, 
and a hawk had killed a wild-fowl in front of the cell. And 
the noise of the horse had scared the hawk away, and a raven 
alighted on the bird. And Perceval stood and compared the 
blackness of the raven and the whiteness of the snow and the 
redness of the blood to the hair of the lady that best he loved, 
which was blacker than jet, and to her skin, which was whiter 

* The word means both, fisher and sinner. 



146 KING ARTHUR AND HIS KNIGHTS. 

than the snow, and to the two red spots uj^on her cheeks, 
which were redder than the blood upon the snow. 

N"ow Arthur and his household were in search of Perceval, 
and by chance they came that way. " Know ye," said Artliur, 
"who is the knight with the long spear that stands by the brook 
up yonder? " " Lord," said one of them, " I wdll go and learn 
who he is." So the youth came to the place where Perceval 
was, and asked him what he did thus, and who he was. But 
Perceval was so intent upon his thought that he gave him no 
answer. Then the youth thrust at Perceval with his lance ; and 
Perceval turned upon him and struck him to the ground. And 
when the youth returned to the king, and told how rudely he 
he had been treated. Sir Kay said, " I will go myself." And 
when he greeted Perceval, and got no answer, he spoke to him 
rudely and angrily. And Perceval thrust at hira with his lance, 
and cast him down so that he broke his arm and his shoulder- 
blade. And while he lay thus stunned, his horse returned back 
at a wild and prancing pace. 

Then said Sir Gawain, surnamed the Golden-Tongued, be- 
cause he was the most' courteous knight in Arthur's court : " It 
is not fitting that any should disturb an honorable knight from 
his thought unadvisedly ; for either he is pondering some dam- 
age that he has sustained, or he is thinking of the lady he best 
loves. If it seem w^ell to thee, lord, I will go and see if this 
knight has changed from his thought, and if he has, I will ask 
him courteously to come and visit thee." 

And Perceval was resting on the shaft of his spear, ponder- 
ing the same thought, and Sir Gawain came to him, and said, 
" If I thought it would be as agreeable to thee as it would 
be to me, I would converse with thee. I have also a message 
from Arthur unto thee, to pray thee to come and visit him. 
And two men have been before on this errand." "That is 
true," said Perceval, "and uncourteously they came. They 
attacked me, and I was annoyed thereat." Then he told him 
the thought that occupied his mind, and Gawain said, " This 
was not an ungentle thought, and I should marvel if it were 
pleasant for thee to be drawn from it." Then said Perceval, 
" Tell me, is Sir Kay in Arthur's court ? " " He is," said Ga- 



THE STORY OF PERCEVAL. 147 

wain; "and truly he is the knight who fought with thee last." 
" Verily," said Perceval, " I am not sorry to have thus avenged 
the insult to the smiling maiden." Then Perceval told him his 
name, and said, "Who art thou?" And he replied, "I am 
Gawain." " I am right glad to meet thee," said Perceval, " for 
I liave everywhere heard of thy prowess and uprightness; and 
I solicit thy fellowsliip." " Thou shalt have it, by my faith ; 
and grant me thine," said he. " Gladly will I do so," answered 
Perceval. 

So they went together to Arthur, and saluted him. "Be- 
hold, lord," said Gawain, " him whom thou hast sought so 
long." "Welcome unto thee, chieftain," said Arthur. And 
hereupon there came the queen and her handmaidens, and Per- 
ceval saluted them. And they were rejoiced to see him, and 
bade him welcome. And Arthur did him great honor and 
respect, and they returned toward Caerleon. 




CHAPTER XV. 

THE QUEST OF THE SANGREAL. 

*' The cup itself from which our Lord 

Drank at the last sad supper with His own. 
This from the blessed land of Aromat, 
After the day of darkness, when the dead 
Went wandering over Moriah — the good saint, 
Avimathean Joseph, journeying', brought 
To Glastonbury-, where tlie winter thorn 
Blossoms at Christmas, mindful of our Lord, 
And there awhile abode ; and if a man 
Could touch or see it, he was healed at once, 
By faith, of all his ills. But then the times 
Grew to such evil that the holy cup 
Was caught away to Heaven, and disappeared." 



Tennyson. 



THE Sangreal was the cup from which our Saviour drank at 
his last supper. He was supposed to have given it to Joseph 
of Arimathea, who carried it to Euro})e, together with the 
spear with which the soldier pierced the Saviour's side. From 
generation to generation one of the descendants of Joseph of 

Arimathea had been devoted to the guardianship of these precious 

148 



THE QUEST OF THE SANGREAL. 149 

relics ; but on the sole condition of leading a life of jmvity in 
thought, word, and deed. For a long time the Sangreal was 
visible to all pilgrims, and its presence conferred blessings upon 
the land in which it was preserved. But at length one of those 
holy men to whom its guardianship had descended so far for- 
got the obligation of his sacred office as to look with unhal- 
lowed eye upon a young female pilgrim whose robe was acci- 
dentally loosened as she knelt before him. The sacred lance 
instantly punished his frailty, spontaneously falling upon him, 
and inflicting a deep wound. The marvellous wound could by 
no means be healed, and the guardian of the Sangreal was ever 
after called "Le Roi Pecheur," — the Sinner King. The San- 
greal withdrew its visible presence from the crowds who came 
to worship, and an iron age succeeded to the happiness which 
its presence had diffused among the tribes of Britain. 

We have told in the history of Merlin how that great 
prophet and enchanter sent a message to King Arthur by Sir 
Gawain, directing him to undertake the recovery of the San- 
greal, informing him at the same time that the knight wiio 
should accomplish that sacred quest was already born, and of a 
suitable age to enter upon it. Sir Gawain delivered his mes- 
sage, and the king was anxiously revolving in his mind how 
best to achieve the enterprise, when, at the vigil of Pentecost, 
all the fellowship of the Round Table being met together at 
Camelot, as they sat at meat, suddenly there was heard a claj) 
of thunder, and .then a bright light burst forth, and every 
knight, as he looked on his fellow, saAv him, in seeming, fairer 
than ever before. All the hall was filled with sw^eet odors, and 
every knight had such meat and drink as he best loved. Then 
there entered into the hall the Holy Greal, covered with white 
samite, so that none could see it, and it passed through the hall 
suddenly and disappeared. During this time no one spoke a 
word, but when they had recovered breath to speak. King Ar- 
thur said, " Certainly we ought greatly to thank the Lord for 
what he hath showed us this day." Then Sir Gawain rose up, 
and made a vow that for twelve months and a day he would 
seek the Sangreal, and not return till he had seen it, if so he 
might speed. When they of the Round Table heard Sir Ga- 



150 KING ARTHUR AND HIS KNIGHTS. 

wain say so, they arose, the most part of them, and vowed the 
same. When King Arthur heard this he was greatly dis- 
pleased, for he knew well that they might not gainsay their 
vows. "Alas ! " said he to Sir Gawain, " you have nigh slain 
me with the vow and promise that ye have made, for ye have 
bereft me of the fairest fellowship that ever was seen together 
in any realm of the world ; for w^hen they shall depart hence, 
I am sure that all shall never meet more in this world." 

Sir Galahad. 

At that time there entered the hall a good old man, and with 
him he brought a young . knight, and these words he said : 
" Peace be with you, fair lords." Then the old man said unto 
King Arthur, " Sir, I bring you here a young knight that is of 
kings' lineage, and of the kindred of Joseph of Arimathea, 
being the son of Dame Elaine, the daughter of King Pelles, 
king of the foreign country." Now the name of the young 
knight was Sir Galahad, and he was the son of Sir Launcelot 
du Lac; but he had dwelt with his mother, at the court of 
King Pelles, his grandfather, till now he was old enough to bear 
arms, and his mother had sent him in the charge of a holy hermit 
to King Arthur's court. Then Sir Launcelot beheld his son, 
and had great joy of him. And Sir Bohort told his fellows, 
"Upon my life, this young knight shall come to great Avor- 
ship." The noise was great in all the court, so that it came to 
the queen. And she said, " I would fain see him, for he must 
needs be a noble knight, for so is his father." And the queen 
and her ladies all said that he resembled much unto his father; 
and he was seemly and demure as a dove, with all manner of 
good features, that in the whole world men might not find his 
match. And King Arthur said, " God make him a good man, 
for beauty faileth him not, as any that liveth." 

Then the hermit led the young knight to the Siege Perilous ; 
and he lifted up the cloth, and found there letters that said, 
" This is the seat of Sir Galahad, the good knight " ; and he 
made him sit in that seat. And all the knights of the Round 



THE QUEST OF THE SANGREAL. 151 

Table marvelled greatly at Sir Galahad, seeing him sit securely 
in that seat, and said, " This is he by whom the Sangreal shall 
be achieved, for there never sat one before in that seat without 
being mischieved." 

On the next day the king said, " Now, at this quest of the 
Sangreal shall all ye of the Round Table depart, and never 
shall I see you again all together ; therefore I will that ye all re- 
pair to the meadow of Camelot, for to joust and tourney yet 
once more before ye depart." But all the meaning of the king 
was to see Sir Galahad proved. So then were they all assem- 
bled in the meadow. Then Sir Galahad, by request of the king 
and queen, put on his harness and his helm, but shield would 
he take none for any prayer of the king. And the queen w^as 
in a tower, with all her ladies, to behold that tournament. 
Then Sir Galahad rode into the midst of the meadow; and 
there he began to break spears marvellously, so that all men 
had wonder of him, for he surmounted all knights that encoun- 
tered with him, except two. Sir Launcelot and Sir Perceval. 
Then the king, at the queen's request, made him to alight, and 
presented him to the queen ; and she said, " Never two men re- 
sembled one another more than he and Sir Launcelot, and there- 
fore it is no marvel that lie is like him in prowess." 

Then the king and the queen went to the minster, and the 
knights followed them. And after the service was done, they 
put on their helms and departed, and there w^as great sorrow. 
They rode through the streets of Camelot, and there was w^eep- 
ing of the rich and poor ; and the king turned away, and might 
not speak for w^eeping. And so they departed, and every knight 
took the way that him best liked. 

Sir Galahad rode forth without shield, and rode four days, 
and found no adventure. And on the fourth day he came to a 
white abbey ; and there he was received with great reverence, 
and led to a chamber. He met there two knights. King Bag- 
demagus and Sir Uwaine, and they made of him great solace. 
"Sirs," said Sir Galahad, "what adventure brought you 
hither?" " Sir," said they, "it is told us that w^ithin this place 
is a shield, which no man may bear unless he be worthy; and 



152 KING ARTHUR AND HIS KNIGHTS. 

if one unworthy should attempt to bear it, it shall surely do 
him a mischief." Then King Bagdemagus said, " I fear not to 
bear it, and that shall ye see to-morrow." 

So on the morrow they arose, and heard mass; then King 
Bagdemagus asked where the adventurous shield was. Anon 
a monk led him behind an altar, where the shield hung, as white 
as snow; but in the midst there was a red cross. Then King 
Bagdemagus took the shield, and bare it out of the minster ; 
and he said to Sir Galahad, " If it please you, abide here till 
ye know how I shall speed." 

Then King Bagdemagus and his squire rode forth ; and when 
they had ridden a mile or two, they saw a goodly knight come 
towards them, in white armor, horse and all; and he came as 
fast as his horse might run, with his spear in the rest ; and King 
Bagdemagus directed his spear against him, and broke it upon 
the white knight, but the other struck him so hard that he broke 
the mails, and thrust him through the right shoulder, for the 
shield covered him not, and so he bare him from his horse. 
Then the white knight turned his horse and rode away. 

Then the squire went to King Bagdemagus, and asked him 
whether he were sore wounded or not. " I am sore wounded," 
said he, "and full hardly shall I escape death." Then the 
squire set him on liis horse, and brought him to an abbey ; and 
there he was takeii down softly, and unarmed, and laid in a bed, 
and his wound was looked to, for he lay there long, and hardly 
escaped with his life. And the squire brought the shield back 
to the abbey. 

The next day Sir Galahad took the shield, and within a while 
he came to the hermitage, where he met the white knight, and 
each saluted the other courteously. " Sir," said Sir Galahad, 
" can you tell me the marvel of the shield ? " " Sir," said the 
white knight, " that shield belonged of old to the gentle knight, 
Joseph of Arimathea ; and when he came to die, he said, ' Never 
shall man bear this shield about his neck but he shall repent it, 
unto the time that Sir Galahad, the good knight, bear it, the last 
of my lineage, the which shall do many marvellous deeds.'" 
And then the white knight vanished away. 



THE QUEST OE THE SANGKEALc 153 



Sir Gawain. 

After Sir Gawain departed, he rode many days, both toward 
and forward, and at last he came to the abbey where Sir Gala- 
had took the white shield. And they told Sir Gawain of the 
marvellous adventure that Sir Galahad had done. " Truly," 
said Sir Gawain, " I am not happy that I took not the way that 
he went, for, if I may meet with him, I will not part from him 
lightly, tliat I may partake with him all the marvellous adven- 
tures which he shall achieve." " Sir," said one of the monks, 
"he will not be of your fellowship." "Why?" said Sir Ga- 
wain. " Sir," said he, " because ye be sinful, and he is bliss- 
ful." Then said the monk, " Sir Gawain, thou must do penance 
for thy sins." "Sir, what penance shall I do?" " Such as I 
will show," said the good man. " Nay," said Sir Gawain, " I 
will do no penance, for we knights adventurous often suffer 
great woe and pain." " Well," said the good man ; and he held 
his peace. And Sir Gawain departed. 

Now it happened, not long after this, that Sir Gawain and 
Sir Hector rode together, and they came to a castle where was 
a great tournament. And Sir Gawain and Sir Hector joined 
themselves to the party that seemed the weaker, and they drove 
before them the other party. Then suddenly came into the 
lists a knight, bearing a white shield with a red cross, and by 
adventure he came by Sir Gawain, and he smote him so hard 
that he clave his helm and wounded his head, so that Sir Ga- 
wain fell to the earth. When Sir Hector saw that, he knew 
that the knight with the white shield was Sir Galahad, and he 
thought it no wisdom to abide with him, and also for natural 
love, that he was his uncle. Then Sir Galahad retired privily, so 
that none knew where he had gone. And Sir Hector raised up 
Sir Gawain, and said, " Sir, me seemeth your quest is done." 
" It is done," said Sir Gawain ; " I shall seek no further." Then 
Gawain was borne into the castle, and unarmed, and laid in a 
rich bed, and a leech found to search his wound. And Sir 
Gawain and Sir Hector abode together, for Sir Hector would 
not away until Sir Gawain were whole. 



154 KING ARTHUR AXD HIS KNIGHTS. 

Now Sir Galahad, after that the white knight had vanished 
away, rode till he came to a waste forest, and there he met 
with Sir Launcelot and Sir Perceval, but they knew him not, 
for he was new disguised. Right so, Sir Launcelot his father 
dressed his spear, and brake it upon Sir Galahad, and Sir 
Galahad smote him so again, that he smote down horse and 
man. And then he drew his sword, and dressed him to Sir 
Perceval, and smote him so on the helm that it rove to the coif 
of steel, and had not the sword swerved Sir Perceval had been 
slain, and with the stroke he fell out of his saddle. This joust 
Avas done before the hermitage where a recluse dwelled. And 
when she saw Sir Galahad ride, she said, " God be with thee, 
best knight of the world. Ah, certes," she said all aloud, 
that Launcelot and Perceval might hear it, "and yonder two 
knights had known thee as well as I do, they would not have 
encountered with thee." When Sir Galahad heard her say so 
he was sore adread to be known : therewith he smote his horse 
with his spurs, and rode at a great pace away from them. 
Then i^erceived they both that he was Sir Galahad, and up 
they got on their horses, and rode fast after him, but in a 
while he was out of their sight. And then they turned again 
with lieavy cheer. "Let us spere some tidings," said Sir 
Perceval, " at yonder recluse. " Do as ye list," said Sir Launce- 
lot. When Sir Perceval came to the recluse, she knew him 
well enough, and Sir Launcelot both. 

But Sir Launcelot rode overthwart and endlong in a wild 
forest, and held no path, but as wild adventure led him. And 
at the last he came to a stony cross, which departed two ways 
in waste land, and by the cross was a stone that was of marble, 
but it was so dark that Sir Launcelot might not wit what it 
was. Then Sir Launcelot looked by him, and saw an old 
chapel, and there he thought to have found people. And Sir 
Launcelot tied his horse till a tree, and there he did off his 
shield, and hung it upon a tree. And then he went to tlie 
chapel door, and found it waste and broken. And within he 
found a fair altar full richly arrayed with cloth of clean silk, 
and there stood a fair, clean candlestick which bare six great 
candles, and the candlestick was of silver. And when Sir 



THE QUEST OF THE SANGREAL. 155 

Launcelot saw this light, he had great will for to enter into 
the chapel, but he could find no place where he might enter : 
then was he passing heavy and dismayed. And he returned 
and came again to his horse, and took off his saddle and 
his bridle, and let him pasture ; and unlaced his helm, and 
ungirded his sword, and laid him down to sleep upon his shield 
before the cross. 

And as he lay, half waking and half sleeping, he saw come 
by him two palfreys, both fair and white, which bare a litter, 
on which lay a sick knight. And when he was nigh the cross, 
he there abode still. And Sir Launcelot heard him say, 
"O sweet Lord, when shall this sorrow leave me, and when 
shall the holy vessel come by me whereby I shall be healed?" 
And thus a great while complained the knight, and Sir Launce- 
lot heard it. Then Sir Launcelot saw the candlestick, with 
the lighted tapers, come before the cross, but he could see 
nobody that brought it. Also there came a salver of silver 
and the holy vessel of the Sangreal ; and therewith the sick 
knight sat him upright, and held up both his hands, and said, 
"Fair, sweet Lord, which is here within the holy vessel, take 
heed to me, that I may be whole of this great malady." And 
therewith, upon his hands and upon his knees, he went so nigh 
that he touched the holy vessel and kissed it. And anon 
he was whole. Then the holy vessel went into the chapel 
again, with the candlistick and the light, so that Sir Launcelot 
wist not what became of it. 

Then the sick knight rose up and kissed the cross ; and anon 
his squire brought him his arms, and asked his lord how he did. 
"I thank God right heartily," said he, "for, through the holy 
vessel, I am healed. But I have great marvel of this sleeping 
knight, who hath had neither grace nor power to awake during 
the time that the holy vessel hath been here present." "I dare 
it right well say," said the squire, " that this same knight is 
stained with some manner of deadly sin, whereof he was never 
confessed." So they departed. 

Then anon Sir Launcelot waked, and set himself upright, 
and bethought him of what he had seen, and wdiether it were 
dreams or not. And he was passing heavy, and wist not what 



156 KING ARTHUR AND HIS KNIGHTS. 

to do. And he said : " My sin and ray wretchedness hath 
brought me into great dishonor. For when I sought worldly 
adventures and worldly desires, I ever achieved them, and had 
the better in every place, and never was I discomfited in any 
quarrel, were it right or wrong. And now I take upon me the 
adventure of holy things, I see and understand that mine old 
sin hindereth me, so that I had no power to stir nor to speak 
when the holy blood appeared before me." So thus he sorrowed 
till it Avas day, and heard the fowls of the air sing. Then was 
he somewhat comforted. 

Then he departed from the cross into the forest. And there 
he found a hermitage, and a hermit therein, who was going to 
mass. So when mass was done, Sir Launcelot called the 
hermit to him, and prayed him for charity to hear his con- 
fession. " With a good will," said the good man. And then 
he told that good man all his life, and how he had loved a 
queen unmeasurably many years. "And all my great deeds of 
arms that I liave done, I 4id the most part for the queen's 
sake, and for her sake Avould I do battle, were it right or 
wrong, and never did I battle all only for God's sake, but for 
to Avin worship, and to cause me to be better beloved ; and 
little or naught I thanked God for it. I pray you counsel 
me." 

" I will counsel you," said the hermit, " if ye will insure me 
that ye will never come in that queen's fellowship as much as 
ye may forbear." And then Sir Launcelot promised the 
hermit, by his faith, that he would no more come in her 
company. ' "Look that your heart and your mouth accord," 
said the good man, "and I shall insure ye that ye shall have 
more worship than ever ye had." 

Then the good man enjoined Sir Launcelot such penance as 
he might do, and he assoiled Sir Launcelot, and made him 
abide with him all that day. And Sir Launcelot repented him 
greatly. 



THE QUEST OF THE SANGREAL. 157 



Sir Perceval. 

Sir Perceval departed, and rode till the hour of noon ; and 
he met in a valley about twenty men of arms. And when they 
saw Sir Perceval, they asked him whence he was; and he 
answered, " Of the court of King Arthur." Then they cried 
all at once, " Slay him." But Sir Perceval smote the first to 
the earth, and his horse upon him. Then seven of the knights 
smote upon his shield all at once, and the remnant slew his 
horse, so that he fell to the earth. So had they slain him or 
taken him, had not the good knight Sir Galahad, with the red 
cross, come there by adventure. And when he saw all the 
knights upon one, he cried out, " Save me that knight's life." 
Then he rode toward the twenty men of arms as fast as his 
horse might drive, with his spear in the rest, and smote the 
foremost horse and man to the earth. And when his spear 
was broken, he set his hand to his sword, and smote on the 
right hand and on the left, that it was marvel to see ; and at 
every stroke he smote down one, or put him to rebuke, so that 
they would fight no more, but fled to a thick forest, and Sir 
Galahad followed them. And when Sir Perceval saw him 
chase them so, he made great sorrow that his horse was slain. 
And he wist well it was Sir Qalahad. Then he cried aloud, 
" Ah, fair knight, abide, and suffer me to do thanks unto thee ; 
for right well have ye done for me." But Sir Galahad rode so 
fast, that at last he passed out of his sight. When Sir Perce- 
val saw that he w^ould not turn, he said, " Now am I a very 
wretch, and most unhappy above all other knights." So in 
this sorrow he abode all that day till it was night ; and then he 
was faint, and laid him down and slept till midnight; and then 
he awaked, and saw before him a woman, who said unto him, 
"Sir Perceval, what dost thou here?" He answered, "I do 
neither good, nor great ill." " If thou wilt promise me," said 
she, " that thou wilt fulfil my will when I summon thee, I will 
lend thee my own horse, which shall bear thee whither thou 
wilt." Sir Perceval was glad of her proffer, and insured her 
to fulfil all her desire. " Then abide me here, and I will go 



158 KING ARTHUR xVXD HIS KNIGHTS. 

fetch you a horse." And so she soon came again, and brought 
a horse with her that was inky black. When Perceval beheld 
that horse, he marvelled, it was so great and so well apparelled. 
And he leapt upon him, and took no heed of himself. And he 
thrust him with his spurs, and witliin an hour and less he bare 
him four days' journey thence, until he came to a rough water, 
which roared, and his horse would have bare him into it. And 
when Sir Perceval came nigh the brim, and saw the water so 
boisterous, he doubted to overpass it. And then he made the 
sign of the cross on his forehead. When the fiend felt him so 
charged, he shook off Sir Perceval, and went into the water 
crying and roaring; and it seemed unto him that the water 
burned. Then Sir Perceval perceived it was a fiend that 
would have brought him unto his perdition. Then he 
commended himself unto God, and prayed our Lord to keep 
him from all such temjDtations ; and so he prayed all that night 
till it was day. Then he saw that he was in a wild place, that 
was closed with the sea nigh all about. And Sir Perceval 
looked forth over the sea, and saw a ship come sailing toward 
him ; and it came and stood still under the rock. And when 
Sir Perceval saw this, he hied him thither, and found the ship 
covered with silk ; and therein was a lady of great beauty, and 
clothed so richly that none might be better. 

And when she saw Sir Perceval she saluted him, and Sir 
Perceval returned her salutation. Then he asked her of her 
country and her lineage. And she said, " I am a gentlewoman 
that am disinherited, and was once the ricliest woman of the 
world." " Damsel," said Sir Perceval, " who hath disinherited 
you? for I have great pity of you." " Sir," said she, "my en- 
emy is a great and powerful lord, and aforetime he made much 
of me, so that of his favor and of my beauty I had a little 
pride more than I ought to have had. Also I said a word that 
pleased him not. So he drove me from his company and from 
mine heritage. Therefore I know no good knight nor good 
man but I get him on my side if I may. And, for that I know 
that thou art a good knight, I beseech thee to help me." 

Then Sir Perceval promised her all the help that he might, 
and she thanked him. 



THE QUEST OF THE SAXGREAL. 159 

And at that time the weather was hot, and she called to her 
a gentlewoman, and bade her brmg forth a i^avilion. And she 
did so, and pitched it upon the gravel. " Sir," said she, " now 
may ye rest you in this heat of the day." Then he thanked 
her, and she put off his helm and his shield, and there he slept 
a great while. Then he awoke, and asked her if she had any 
meat, and she said yea, and so there was set upon the table all 
manner of meats that he could think on. Also he drank there 
the strongest wine that ever he drank, and therewith he was a 
little chafed more than he ought to be. With that he beheld 
the lady, and he thought she was the fairest creature that ever 
he saw. And then Sir Perceval proffered her love, and prayed 
her that she would be his. Then she refused him in a manner, 
for the cause he should be the more ardent on her, and ever he 
ceased not to pray her of love. And when she saw him well 
enchafed, then she said, " Sir Perceval, wit ye well I shall not 
give ye my love unless you swear from henceforth you will be 
my true servant, and do no thing but that I shall command 
you. Will you insure me this, as ye be a true knight?" 
" Yea," said he, "fair lady, by the faith of my body." And as 
he said this, by adventure and grace, he saw his sword lie on 
the ground naked, in whose pommel was a red cross, and the 
sign of the crucifix thereon. Then he made the sign of the 
cross upon his forehead, and therewith the pavilion shrivelled 
up, and changed into a smoke and a black cloud. And the 
damsel cried aloud, and hasted into the ship, and so she went 
with the wind roarino' and vellino- that it seemed all the water 
burned after her. Then Sir Perceval made great sorrow, and 
called himself a wretch, saying, "How nigh was I lost!" 
Then he took his arms, and departed thence. 




CHAPTEE XVI. 



THE END OF THE QUEST. 



Sir Bohort. 

WHEN" Sir Bohort departed from Camelot he met with 
a religious man, riding upon an ass ; and Sir Bohort 
sahited hira. " What are ye ? " said the good man. " Sir," said 
Sir Bohort, " I am a knight that fain would be counselled in the 
quest of the Sangreal." So rode they both together till they 
came to a hermitage ; and there he prayed Sir Bohort to dwell 
that night with him. So he alighted, and put away his armor, 
and prayed him that he might be confessed. And they went 
both into the chapel, and there he was clean confessed. And 
they ate bread and drank water together. "Now," said the 
good man, " I pray thee that thou eat none other till thou sit 
at the table where the Sangreal shall be." " Sir," said Sir Bo- 
hort, "but how know ye that I shall sit there?" "Yea," said 
the good man, " that I know well ; but there shall be few of 
your fellows with you." Then said Sir Bohort, " I agree me 
thereto." And the good man, when he had heard his confes- 
160 



THE END OF THE QUEST. 161 

sion, found him in so pure a life and so stable that he marvelled 
thereof. 

On the morrow, as soon as the day appeared, Sir Bohort de- 
parted thence, and rode into a forest unto the hour of midday. 
And there befell him a marvellous adventure. For he met, at 
the parting of two ways, two knights that led Sir Lionel, his 
brother, all naked, bound upon a strong hackney, and his hands 
bound before his breast; and each of them held in his hand 
thorns wherewith they went beating him, so that he was all 
bloody before and behind ; but he said never a word, but, as 
he was great of heart, he suffered all that they did to him as 
though he had felt none anguish. Sir Bohort prepared to rescue 
his brother. But he looked on the other side of him, and saw 
a knight dragging along a fair gentlewoman, who cried out, 
" Saint Mary ! succor your maid ! " And when she saw Sir 
Bohort, she called to him and said, " By the faith that ye owe 
to knighthood, help me ! " When Sir Bohort heard her say 
thus, he had such sorrow that he wist not what to do. " For 
if I let my brother be he must be slain, and that would I not 
for all the earth ; and if I help not the maid I am shamed for- 
ever." Then lift he up his eyes and said, weeping, " Fair Lord, 
whose liegeman I am, keep Sir Lionel, my brother, that none 
of these knights slay him, and for pity of you, and our Lady's 
sake, I shall succor this maid." 

Then he cried out to the knight, " Sir knight, lay your hand 
off that maid, or else ye be but dead.'' Then the knight set down 
the maid, and took his shield, and drew out his sword. And 
Sir Bohort smote him so hard that it Avent through his shield 
and habergeon, on the left shoulder, and he fell down to the 
earth. Then came Sir Bohort to the maid, "Ye be delivered 
of this knight this time." "Now," said she, "I pray you lead 
me there where this knight took me." "I shall gladly do it," 
said Sir Bohort. So he took the horse of the wounded knight 
and set the gentlewoman upon it, and brought her there where 
she desired to be. And there he found twelve knights seeking 
after her ; and when she told them how Sir Bohort had deliv- 
ered her, they made great joy, and besought him to come to 
her father, a great lord, and he should be right welcome. 



162 KING ARTHUR AND HIS KNIGHTS. 

" Truly," said Sir Bohort, "that may not be ; for I have a great 
adventure to do." So he commended them to God and de- 
parted. 

Then Sir Bohort rode after Sir Lionel, liis brother, by the 
trace of their horses. Thus he rode, seeking, a great -\vhile. 
Then he overtook a man clothed in a religious clothing, who 
said, "Sir knight, what seek ye?" "Sir," said Sir Bohort, 
" I seek my brother, that I saw within a little space beaten of 
two knights. "Ah, Sir Bohort, trouble not thyself to seek for 
him, for truly he is dead." Then he showed him a new-slain 
body, lying in a thick bush ; and it seemed him that it was the 
body of Sir Lionel. And then he made such sorrow that he 
fell to the ground in a swoon, and lay tliere long. And when 
he came to himself again he said, "Fair brother, since the fel- 
lowship of you and me is sundered, shall I never have joy 
again ; and now He that I have taken for my master He be my 
help ! " And when he had said thus, he took up the body in 
his arms, and put it upon the horse. And then he said to the 
man, "Canst thou tell me the way to some chapel, where I may 
bury this body ? " " Come on," said the man, " here is one fast 
by." And so they rode till they saw a fair tower, and beside 
it a chapel. Then they alighted both, and put the body into a 
tomb of marble. 

Then Sir Bohort commended the good man unto God, and 
departed. And he rode all that day, and harbored with an 
old lady. And on the morrow he rode unto the castle in a 
valley, and there he met with a yeoman. " Tell me," said Sir 
Bohort, "knowest thou of any adventure? " " Sir," said he, 
"here shall be, under this castle, a great and marvellous tour- 
nament." Then Sir Bohort thought to be there, if he might 
meet with any of the fellowship that were in quest of the 
Sangreal; so he turned to a hermitage that was on the border 
of the forest. And when he was come thither, he found there 
Sir Lionel his brother, who sat all armed at the entry of the 
chapel door. And when Sir Bohort saw him, he had great 
joy, and he alighted off his horse, and said, " Fair brother, 
when came ye hither?" As soon as Sir Lionel sa"sv him, he 
said, " Ah, Sir Bohort, make ye no false show, for, as for you, 



THE END OF THE QUEST. 163 

• I might have been slain, for ye left me in i3eril of death to go 
succor a gentlewoman ; and for that misdeed I now insure you 
but death, for ye have right well deserved it." When Sir 
Bohort perceived his brother's wrath, he kneeled down to the 
earth and cried him mercy, holding up both his hands, and 
prayed him to forgive him. "Nay," said Sir Lionel, "thou 
shalt have but death for it, if I have the upper hand ; there- 
fore leap upon thy horse and keep thyself; and if thou do not, 
I will run upon thee there, as thou standest on foot, and so 
the shame shall be mine, and the harm thine, but of that I 
reck not." When Sir Bohort saw that he must fight with his 
brother or else die, he wist not what to do. Then his heart 
counselled him not so to do, inasmuch as Sir Lionel was his 
elder brother, wherefore he ought to bear him reverence. Yet 
kneeled he down before Sir Lionel's horse's feet, and said, 
" Fair brother, have mercy upon me, and slay me not." But 
Sir Lionel cared not, for the fiend had brought him in such a 
will that he should slay him. When he saw that Sir Bohort 
would not rise to give him battle, he rushed over him, so that 
he smote him with his horse's feet to the earth, and hurt him 
sore, that he swooned of distress. When Sir Lionel saw this, 
he alighted from his horse for to have smitten off his head; 
and so he took him by the helm, and would have rent it from 
his head. But it happened that Sir Colgrevance, a knight of 
the Round Table, came at that time thither, as it was our 
Lord's will ; and then he beheld how Sir Lionel would have 
slain his brother, and he knew Sir Bohort, whom he loved 
right well. Then leapt he down from his horse, and took Sir 
Lionel by the shoulders, and drew him strongly back from Sir 
Bohort, and said, "Sir Lionel, will ye slay your brother?" 
"Why," said Sir Lionel, "will ye slay me? If ye interfere 
in this, I will slay you, and him after." Then he ran upon Sir 
Bohort, and would have smitten him ; but Sir Colgrevance ran 
between them, and said, " If ye persist to do so any more, we 
two shall meddle together." Then Sir Lionel defied him, and 
gave him a great stroke through the helm. Then he drew his 
sword, for he was a passing good knight, and defended him- 
self right manfully. So long endured the battle, that Sir 



164 KIXG ARTHUR AND HIS KNIGHTS. 

Bohort rose up all anguishly, and beheld Sir Colgrevance, the 
good knight, fight with his brother for his quarrel. ThQn was 
he full sorry and heavy, and thought that, if Sir Colgrevance 
slew him that was his brotlier, he should never have joy, and 
if his brother slew Sir Colgrevance, the shame should ever 
be his. 

Then would he have risen for to have parted them, but he 
had not so much strength to stand on his feet ; so he staid so 
long that Sir Colgrevance had the worse, for Sir Lionel was of 
great chivalry and right hardy. Then cried Sir Colgrevance, 
" Ah, Sir Bohort, why come ye not to bring me out of peril of 
death, wherein I have j3ut me to succor you?" With that, 
Sir Lionel smote off his helm, and bore him to the earth. 
And when he had slain Sir Colgrevance, he ran upon his 
brother as a fiendly man, and gave him such a stroke that he 
made him stoop. And he that was full of humility prayed 
him, "For God's sake leave this battle, for if it befell, fair 
brother, that I slew you, or ye me, we should be dead of that 
sin." "Pray ye not me for mercy," said Sir Lionel. Then 
Sir Bohort, all weeping, drew his sword, and said, " 'Now God 
have mercy upon me, though I defend my life against my 
brother." With that Sir Bohort lifted up his sword, and 
would have stricken his brother. Then heard he a voice that 
said, "Flee, Sir Bohort, and touch him not." Right so 
alighted a cloud between them, in the likeness of a fire, and a 
marvellous flame, so that they both fell to the earth, and lay 
there a great while in a swoon. And when they came to 
themselves. Sir Bohort saw that his brother had no harm ; and 
he was right glad, for he dread sore that God had taken ven- 
geance upon him. Then Sir Lionel said to his brother, 
"Brother, forgive me, for God's sake, all that I have tres- 
passed against you." And Sir Bohort answered, " God forgive 
it thee, and I do." 

With that Sir Bohort heard a voice say, " Sir Bohort, take 
thy way anon, right to the sea, for Sir Perceval abideth thee 
there." So Sir Bohort departed, and rode the nearest way to 
the sea. And at last he came to an abbey that was nigh the 
sea. That nioht he rested him there, and in his sleep there 



THE END OF THE QUEST. 165 

came a voice unto him and bade him go to the sea-shore. He 
started up, and made the sign of the cross on his forehead, and 
armed himself, and made ready his horse and mounted him, 
and at a broken wall he rode out, and came to the sea-shore. 
And there he found a ship, covered all with white samite. And 
he entered into the ship ; but it was anon so dark that he might 
see no man, and he laid him down and slept till it was day. 
Then he awaked, and saw in the middle of the ship a knight 
all armed, save his helm. And then he knew it was Sir Perce- 
val de Galis, and each made of other right great joy. Then 
said Sir Perceval, " We lack nothing now but the good knight 
Sir Galahad." 

Of Sir Launcelot Again. 

It befell upon a night Sir Launcelot arrived before a castle, 
which was rich and fair. And there was a postern that opened 
toward the sea, and was open without any keeping, save two 
lions kept the entry; and the moon shined clear. Anon Sir 
Launcelot heard a voice that said, " Launcelot, enter into the 
castle, where thou shalt see a great part of thy desire." So he 
went unto the gate, and saw the two lions ; then he set hands 
to his sword, and drew it. Then there came suddenly as it 
were a stroke upon the arm, so sore that the sword fell out of 
his hand, and he heard a voice that said, "O man of evil faith, 
wherefore believest thou more in thy armor than in thy Maker? " 
Then said Sir Launcelot, " Fair Lord, I thank thee of thy great 
mercy, that thou reprovest me of my misdeed ; now see I well 
that thou boldest me for thy servant." Then he made a cross 
on his forehead, and came to the lions ; and they made sem- 
blance to do him harm, but he passed them without hurt, and 
entered into the castle, and he found no gate nor door but it was 
open. But at the last he found a chamber whereof the door 
was shut; and he set his hand thereto, to ha,ve opened it, but 
he might not. Then he listened, and heard a voice which sung 
so sweetly that it seemed none earthly thing ; and the voice 
said, "Joy and honor be to the Father of heaven." Then Sir 
Launcelot kneeled down before the chamber, for well he wist 
that there was the Sangreal in that chamber. Then said he, 



166 KmG ARTHUR AND HIS KNIGHTS. 

" Fair, sweet Lord, if ever I did anything that pleased thee 
for thy pity show me something of that which I seek." And 
with that he saw the chamber door open, and there came out 
a great clearness, that the house was as bright as though all the 
torches of the world had been there. So he came to the cham- 
ber door, and w^ould have entered ; and anon a voice said unto 
him, " Stay, Sir Launcelot, and enter not." And he withdrew 
him back, and was right heavy in his mind. Then looked he 
in the midst of the chamber, and saw a table of silver, and the 
holy vessel, covered with red samite, and many angels about it ; 
Avhereof one held a candle of wax burning, and another held 
a cross, and the ornaments of the altar. Then, for very won- 
der and thankfulness, Sir Launcelot forgot himself, and he 
stepped forward and entered the chamber. And suddenly a 
breath that seemed intermixed with fire smote him so sore in 
the visage, that therewith he fell to the ground, and had no 
power to rise. Then felt he many hands about him, which 
took him up, and bare him out of the chamber, without any 
amending of liis swoon, and left him there, seeming dead to all 
the people. So on the morrow, when it was fair daylight, and 
they wdthin were arisen, they found Sir Launcelot lying before 
the chamber door. And they looked upon him and felt his 
pulse, to know if there were any life in him. And they found 
life in him, but he might neither stand nor stir any member that 
he had. So they took him and bare him into a chamber, and 
laid him upon a bed, far from all folk, and there he lay many 
days. Then the one said he was alive, and others said nay. 
But said an old man, "He is as full of life as the mightiest 
of you all, and therefore I counsel you that he be well kept till 
God bring him back again." And after twenty-four days he 
opened his eyes ; and when he saw folk, he made great sor- 
row, and said, "Why have ye wakened me? for I was better 
at ease than I am now." " What have ye seen ? " said they 
about him. "I have seen," said he, "great marvels that no 
tongue can tell, and more tlian any heart can think." Then 
they said, " Sir, the quest of the Sangreal is achieved right 
now in you, and never shall ye see more of it than ye have 
seen." "I thank God," said Sir Launcelot, "of His great 



THE END OF THE QUEST. 167 

mercy, for that I have seen, for it sufficeth me." Then he 
rose up and clothed himself; and when he was so arrayed, 
they marvelled all, for they knew it was Sir Launcelot, the 
o'ood knight. And, after four days, he took his leave of the 
lord of the castle, and of all the fellowship that were there, 
and thanked them for their great labor and care of him. Then 
he departed, and turned to Camelot, where he found King Ar- 
thur and Queen Guenever ; but many of the knights of the 
Round Tabic were slain and destroyed, more than half. Then 
all the court was passing glad of Sir Launcelot ; and he told 
the king all his adventures that had befallen him since he 
departedo 

Sir Galahad. 

Now, when Sir Galahad had rescued Perceval from the 
twenty knights, he rode into a vast forest, wherein he abode 
many days. Then he took his way to the sea, and it befell 
him that he was benighted in a hermitage. And the good man 
was o'lad when he saw he was a knio-ht-errant. And when 
they were at rest, there came a gentlewoman knocking at the 
door; and the good man came to the door to wit what she 
would. Then she said, "I would speak with the knight 
which is with you." Then Galahad went to her, and asked her 
what she would. " Sir Galahad," said she, "I will that ye arm 
you, and mount upon your horse, and follow me ; for I will 
show you the highest adventure that ever knight saw." Then 
Galahad armed himself and commended himself to God, and 
bade the damsel go before, and he would follow where she led. 

So she ^odo as fast as her palfrey might bear her, till she 
came to the sea ; and there they found the ship where Sir 
Bohort and Sir Perceval were, who cried from the ship, " Sir 
Galahad, you are welcome ; we have awaited you long." And 
when he heard them, he asked the damsel who they were. 
" Sir," said che, " leave your horse here, and I shall leave mine, 
and we will join ourselves to their company." So they entered 
into the ship, and the two knights received them both with 
great joyo For they knew the damsel, that she was Sir Perce- 
val's sister. Then the wind arose and drove them through the 



168 KING ARTHUR AND HIS KNIGHTS. 

sea all that day and the next, till the shij) arrived between two 
rocks, passing great and marvellous ; but there they might not 
land, for there was a whirlpool ; but there was another ship, 
and upon it they might go without danger. " Go we thither," 
said the gentlewoman, " and there shall we see adventures, for 
such is our Lord's will." Then Sir Galahad blessed him, and 
entered therein, and then next the gentlewoman, and then 
Sir Bohort and Sir Perceval. And when they came on board, 
they found there the table of silver, and the Sangreal, which 
was covered with red samite. And they made great rever- 
ence thereto, and Sir Galahad prayed a long time to our 
Lord, that at what time he should ask to pass out of this 
world, he should do so ; and a voice said to him, " Galahad, 
thou shalt have thy request ; and when thou askest the death 
of thy body thou shalt have it, and then shalt thou find the 
life of thy soul." 

And anon the wind drove them across the sea, till they 
came to the city of Sarras. Then they took out of the ship the 
table of silver, and he took it to Sir Perceval and Sir Bohort 
to go before, and Sir Galahad came behind, and right so they 
came to the city, and at the gate of the city they saw an old 
man, crooked. Then Sir Galahad called him and bade him 
help bear this heavy thing. "Truly," said the old man, "it is 
ten years ago that I might not go save with crutches." " Care 
thou not," said Sir Galahad, "but arise up and show thy good 
will." And so he assayed and found himself as whole as ever 
he was. Then ran he to the table and took one part against 
Sir Galahad. And anon arose there a great noise in the city, 
that a cripple was made whole by knights marvellous that 
entered into the city. Then anon after, the three knights 
went to the water, and brought up into the palace Sir Perce- 
val's sister. And when the king of the city, which was cleped 
Estorause, saw the fellowship, he asked them of whence they 
were, and what thing it was they had brought upon the table 
of silver. And they told him the truth of the Sangreal, and 
the power which God had set there. Then the king was a 
tyrant, and was come of the line of Paynims, and took them, 
and put them in prison in a deep hole. 



THE END OF THE QUEST. 169 

But as soon as they were there, our Lord sent them the 
Sangrea], through whose grace they were always filled while 
that they were in prison. ' So at the year's end it befell tliat 
this king Estorause lay sick, and felt that he should die. Then 
he sent for the three knights, and they came afore him, and he 
cried them mercy of that he had done to them, and they 
forgave it him goodly, and he died anon. When the king was 
dead, all the city was dismayed, and wist not who might be 
their king. Right so they were in council, there came a voice 
among them, and bade them choose the youngest knight of 
them three to be their king, " for he shall well maintain you and 
all yours." So they made Sir Galahad king by all the assent 
of the whole city, and else they would have slain him. And 
when he was come to behold the land, he had made about the 
table of silver a chest of gold and of precious stones that 
covered the holy vessel, and every day early the three fellows 
would come afore it and make their prayers. 'Now at the 
year's end, and the next day after Sir Galahad had borne the 
crown of gold, he rose up early, and his fellows, and came to 
the palace, and saw before them the holy vessel, and a man 
kneeling on his knees, in likeness of a bishop, that had about 
him a great fellowship of angels, as it had been Jesus Christ 
himself. And then he arose and began a mass of Our Lady. 
And when he came to the sacrament of the mass, and had 
done, anon he called Sir Galahad, and said to him, " Come 
forth, the servant of Jesus Christ, and thou shalt see that thou 
hast much desired to see." And then he began to tremble 
right hard, when the deadly flesh began to behold the spiritual 
things. Then he held up liis hands toward heaven, and said, 
"Lord, I thank thee, for now I see that that hath been my 
desire many a day. Now, blessed Lord, would I not longer 
live; if it might please thee. Lord." And therewith the good 
man took our Lord's body betwixt his hands, and proffered it 
to Sir Galahad, and he received it right gladly and meekly. 
"Now, wottest thou what I am ? " said the good man. " Nay," 
said Sir Galahad. " I am Joseph of Ariraathea, which our 
Lord hath sent here to bear thee fellowship. And wottest thou 
wherefore that he hath sent me more than any other ? For 



170 KING ARTHUR AND HIS KNIGHTS. 

thou hast resembled me in two things, in that thou hast seen 
the marvels of the Sangreal, and in that thou hast been a clean 
maiden as I have been and am." And when he had said these 
words Sir Galahad w^ent to Sir Perceval and kissed him, and 
commanded him to God. And so he went to Sir Bohort and 
kissed him, and commanded him to God, and said, " Fair lord, 
salute me to my lord Sir Launcelot, my father, and as soon as 
ye see him bid him remember of this unstable world." And 
therewith he kneeled down before the table and made his 
prayers, and then suddenly his soul departed to Jesus Christ, 
and a great multitude of angels bare his soul up to heaven, 
that the two fellows might w^ell behold it. Also the two fel- 
lows saw come from heaven an hand, but they saw not the 
body ; and then it came right to the vessel, and took it and the 
spear, and so bare it up to heaven. Sithen there was never 
man so hardy to say that he had seen the Sangreal. 

When Sir Perceval and Sir Bohort saw Sir Galahad dead 
they made as much sorrow as ever did two men ; and if they 
had not been good men they might lightly have fallen into de- 
spair. And the people of the country and of the city were 
right heavy. And th^n he was buried. And as soon as he 
was buried Sir Perceval yielded him to an hermitage out of the 
city, and took a religious clothing ; and Sir Bohort was always 
with him, but never changed he his secular clothing, for that 
he purposed to go again into the realm of Loegria. Thus a 
year and two months lived Sir Perceval in the hermitage a full 
holy life, and then he passed out of this w^orld. And Sir Bo- 
hort let bury him by his sister and by Sir Galahad. 

And when Sir Bohort saw that he was in so far countries as 
in the parts of Babylon, he departed from Sarras, and armed 
him, and came to the sea, and entered into a ship, and so it 
befell him in good adventure he came into the realm of Loe- 
gria. And he rode so fast till he came to Camelot, w^here the 
king was. And then was there great joy made of him in the 
court, for they wend all he had been dead, forasmuch as he had 
been so long out of the country. And when they had eaten, 
the king made great clerks to come afore him, that they should 
chronicle of the high adventures of the good knights. Then 



THE END OF THE QUEST. 171 

Sir Bohort told liim of the adventures of the Sangreal, such 
as had befallen him and his three fellows, that was Sir Launce- 
lot, Sir Perceval, and Sir Galahad. Then Sir Launcelot told 
the adventures of the Sangreal that he had seen. All this was 
made in great books, and put in alnieries in Salisbury. And 
anon Sir Bohort said to Sir Launcelot, " Galahad, your own 
son, saluted you by me, and after you King Arthur, and all the 
court, and so did Sir Perceval ; for I buried them with mine 
own hands in the city of Sarras. Also, Sir Launcelot, Galahad 
prayeth you to remember of this uncertain world, as ye be- 
hight him when ye were together more than half a year." 
" This is true," said Sir Launcelot; "now I trust to God his 
prayer shall avail me." Then Sir Launcelot took Sir Bohort 
in his arms, and said, " Gentle cousin, ye are right welcome to 
me, and all that ever I may do for you and for yours, ye shall find 
my poor body ready at all times whiles the spirit is in it, and 
that I promise you faithfully, and never to fail. And wit ye 
well, gentle cousin Sir Bohort, that ye and I will never part in 
sunder whilst our lives may last." " Sir," said he, " I will as ye 
will." 

Thus endeth the history of the Sangreal, which is a story 
chronicled as one of the truest and holiest that is in this 
world. 



Tennyson has among his shorter poems one on Sir Galahad, 
which we add as being the conception of this purest of knights 
held by the poet who has loved best of all English poets the 
old stories of the Knights of the Round Table : — 

SIR GALAHAD, 

" My good blade carves the casques of men, 

My tough lance thrusteth sure, 
My strength is as the strength of ten, 

Because my heart is pure. 
The shattering trumpet shrilleth high, 

The hard brands shiver on the steel, 
The splintered spear-shafts crack and fly. 

The horse and rider reel : 



172 KING ARTHUR AND HIS KNIGHTS. 

They reel, they roll in clanging lists, 
And when the tide of combat stands, 

Perfume and flowei'S fall in showers. 
That lightly rain from ladies' hands. 

" How sweet are looks that ladies bend 

On whom their favors fall ! 
For them I battle to the end, 

To save from shame and thrall : 
But all my heart is drawn above, 

My knees are bound in crypt and shrine ; 
I never felt the kiss of love, 

Nor maiden's hand in mine. 
More bounteous aspects on me beam, 

Me mightier transports move and thrill; 
So keep I fair thro' faith and prayer, 

A virgin heart in work and will. 

" When down the stormy crescent goes, 

A light before me swims, 
Between dark stems the forest glows, 

I hear a noise of hymns : 
Then by some secret shrine I ride ; 

I hear a voice, but none are there ; 
The stalls are void, the doors are wide, 

The tapers burning fair. 
Fair gleams the snowy altar-cloth, 

The silver vessels sparkle clean, 
The shrill bell rings, the censer swings, 

And solemn chants resound bet\veen. 

" Sometimes on lonely mountain meres 

I find a magic bark ; 
I leap on board : no helmsman steers : 

I float till all is dark. 
A gentle sound, an awful light ! 

Three angels bear the holy Grail : 
With folded feet, in stoles of white, 

On sleeping wings the.y sail. 
Ah, blessed vision ! blood of God ! 

My spirit beats her mortal bars, 
As down dark tides the glory slides 

And star-like mingles with the stars. 

" When on my goodly charger borne 
Thro' dreaming towns I go, 
The cock crows ere the Christmas morn. 
The streets are dumb with snow. 



THE END OF THE QUEST. 173 

The tempest crackles on the leads, 

And, ringing, springs from brand and mail; 
But o'er the dark a glory spreads 

And gilds the driving hail. 
I leave the plain, I climb the height; 

No branchy thicket shelter yields ; 
But blessed forms in whisking storms 

Fly o'er waste fens and windy fields. 

■ A maiden knight — to me is given 

Such hope, I know not fear ; 
I yearn to breathe the airs of heaven 

That often meet me here. 
I muse on joy that will not cease, 

Pure spaces clothed in living beams, 
Pure lilies of eternal peace, 

Whose odors haunt my dreams ; 
And stricken by an angel's hand, 

This mortal armour tliat I Avear, 
This weight and rise, this heart and eyes. 

Are touched, are turned to finest air. 

The clouds are broken in the sky, 

And thro' the mountain-walls 
A rolling organ-harmony 

Swells up, and shakes and falls. 
Then move the trees, the copses nod, 

Wings flutter, voices hover clear : 
O just and faithful knight of God! 

Ride on ! the prize is near ! 
So pass I hostel, hall, and grange ; 

By hedge and ford, by park and pale. 
All armed I ride, whate'er betide, 

Until I find the holy Grail." 




CHAPTER XVII. 



SIR AGRIYAIN'S TREASON. 



SO after the quest of the Sangreal was fulfilled, and all the 
knights that were left on live were come again to the Ta- 
ble Round, there was great joy in the court, and in especial 
King Arthur and Queen Guenever made great joy of the rem- 
nant that were come home, and passing glad were the king and 
the queen of Sir Launcelot and of Sir Boliort, for they had 
been passing long away in the quest of the Sangreal. 

Then Sir Launcelot began to resort unto Queen Guenever 
again, and forgot tlie promise that he made in the quest ; 
so that many in the court spoke of it, and in especial Sir Agri- 
vain, Sir Gawain's brother, for he was ever open-mouthed. So 
it happened Sir Gawain and all his brothers were in King Ar- 
thur's chamber, and then Sir Agrivain said thus openly, "I 
marvel that we all are not ashamed to see and to know so noble 
a knight as King Arthur so to be shamed by the conduct of 
Sir Launcelot and the queen." Then spoke Sir Gawain, and 
said, " Brother, Sir Agrivain, I pray you and charge you move 
174 



SIR agrivain's treason. 175 

not such matters any more before me, for be ye assured I will 
not be of your counsel." "Neither will w^e," said Sir Gaheris 
and Sir Gareth. "Then will I," said Sir Modred. "I doubt 
you not," said Sir Gawain, " for to all mischief ever were ye 
prone ; yet I would that ye left all this, for I know wiiat Avill 
come of it." " Fall of it what fall may," said Sir Agrivain, 
•' I will disclose it to the king." With that came to them King 
Artliiu'. " Now, brothers, hold your peace," said Sir Gawain. 
" We will not," said Sir Agrivain. Then said Sir Gawain, "I 
will not hear your tales, nor be of your counsel." "No more 
will I," said Sir Gareth and Sir Gaheris, and therewith they 
departed, making great sorrow. 

Then Sir Agrivain told the king all that was said in the court 
of the conduct of SirLauncelot and the queen, and it grieved the 
king very much. But he would not believe it to be true with- 
out proof. So Sir Agrivain laid a plot to entrap Sir Launce- 
lot and the queen, intending to take them together unawares. 
Sir Agrivain and Sir Modred led a party for this purpose, but 
Sir Launcelot escaped from them, having slain Sir Agrivain and 
wounded Sir Modred. Then Sir Launcelot hastened to his 
friends, and told them what had happened, and Avithdrew with 
them to the forest ; but he left spies to bring him tidings of 
whatever might be done. 

So Sir Launcelot escaped, but the queen remained in the 
king's power, and Arthur could no longer doubt of her guilt. 
And the law was such in those days that they who committed 
such crimes, of what estate or condition soever they were, must 
be burned to death, and so it was ordained for Queen Guenever. 
Then said King Arthur to Sir Gawain, " I pray you make you 
ready, in your best armor, with your brethren. Sir Gaheris and 
Sir Gareth, to bring my queen to the iire, there to receive her 
death." "Nay, my most noble lord," said Sir Gawain, "that 
will I never do ; for know thou well, my heart will never serve 
me to see her die, and it shall never be said that I was of your 
counsel in her death." Then the king commanded Sir Gaheris 
and Sir Gareth to be there, and they said, " We will be there, 
as ye command us, sire, but in peaceable wise, and bear no armor 
uj)on us." 



176 KING AKTHUK AND HIS KNIGHTS. 

So the queen was led forth, and her ghostly father was 
brought to her to shrive her, and there was weeping and wail- 
ing of many lords and ladies. And one went and told Sir 
Launcelot that the queen was led forth to her death. Then 
Sir Launcelot and the knights that were with him fell upon the 
troop that guarded the queen, and dispersed them, and slew 
all Avho withstood them. And in the confusion Sir Gareth and 
Sir Gaheris were slain, for they were unarmed and defenceless. 
And Sir Launcelot carried away the queen to his castle of La 
Joyeuse Garde. 

Then there came one to Sir Gawain and told him how that 
Sir Launcelot had slain the knights and carried away the queen. 
"O Lord, defend my brethren!" said Sir Gawain. "Truly," 
said the man, " Sir Gareth and Sir Gaheris are slain." "Alas ! " 
said Sir Gawain, "now is my joy gone." And then he fell 
down and swooned, and long he lay there as he had been dead. 

When he arose out of his swoon Sir Gawain ran to the king, 
crying, " O King; Artliur, mine uncle, my brothers are slain." 
Then the king wept and he both. "My king, my lord, and 
mine uncle," said Sir Gawain, " bear witness now that I make 
you a promise that I shall hold by my knighthood, that from 
this day I will never fail Sir Launcelot until the one of us have 
slain the other. I will seek Sir Launcelot throughout seven 
kings' realms, but I shall slav him or he shall slay me." " Ye 
shall not need to seek him," said the king, " for, as I hear. Sir 
Launcelot will abide me and you in the Joyeuse Garde; and 
much people draweth unto him, as I hear say." " That may I 
believe," said Gawain, "but, my lord, summon your friends, 
and I will summon mine." "It shall be done," said the king. 
So then the king sent letters and writs throughout all Eng- 
land, both m the length and breadth, to summon all his knights. 
And unto Arthur drew many knights, dukes, and earls, so that 
he had a great host. Thereof heard Sir Launcelot, and col- 
lected all whom he could ; and many good knights held with 
him, both for his sake and for the queen's sake. But King Ar- 
thur's host was too great for Sir Launcelot to abide him in the 
field ; and he was full loath to do battle against the king. So 
Sir Launcelot drew him to his strono- castle, with all manner 



SIR AGRIVAIN'S TREASON. 177 

of provisions. Then came King Arthur and Sir Gawain, and 
laid siege all about La Joyeuse Garde, both the town and 
the castle; but in no wise would Sir Launcelot ride out of his 
castle, neither suffer any of his knights to issue out, until many 
weeks were past. 

Then it befell upon a day in harvest-time Sir Launcelot 
looked over the wall, and spake aloud to King Arthur and Sir 
Gawain, " My lords both, all is vain that ye do at this siege, 
for here ye shall win no worship, but only dishonor ; for if I 
list to come out, and my good knights, I shall soon make an end 
of this war." "Come forth," said Arthur, "if thou darest, 
and I promise thee I shall meet thee in the midst of the field." 
" God forbid me," said Sir Launcelot, " that I should encounter 
with the most noble king that made me knight." " Fie upon 
thy fair language," said the king, " for know thou well that I 
am thy mortal foe, and ever will be to my dying day." And 
Sir Gawain said, " What cause hadst thou to slay my brother, 
Sir Gaheris, who bore no arms against thee, and Sir Gareth, 
whom thou madest knight, and who loved thee more than all 
my kin ? Therefore know thou well I shall make war to thee 
all the while that I may live." 

When Sir Bohort, Sir Hector de Marys, and Sir Lionel heard 
this outcry they called to them Sir Palamedes, and Sir Saifire 
his brother, and Sir Lawayn, with many more, and all went 
to Sir Launcelot. And they said, " My lord. Sir Launcelot, we 
pray you, if you will have our service, keep us no longer within 
these walls, for know well all your fair speech and forbearance 
will not avail you." "Alas ! " said Sir Launcelot, " to ride 
forth and to do battle I am full loath." Then he spake again 
unto the king and Sir Gawain, and willed them to keep out of 
the battle; but they despised his Avords. So then Sir Launce- 
lot's fellowship came out of the castle in full good array. And 
always Sir Launcelot charged all his knights, in any wise, to 
save King Arthur and Sir Gawain. 

Then came forth Sir Gawain from the king's host, and offered 
combat, and Sir Lionel encountered with him, and there Sir 
Gawain smote Sir Lionel through the body, that he fell to the 
earth as if dead.. Then there becjan a o^reat conflict, and much 



178 KING ARTHUR AND HIS KNIGHTS. 

people were slain ; but ever Sir Launcelot did what he might to 
save the people on King Arthur's i^arty, and ever King Arthur 
foUowied Sir Launcelot to slay him ; but Sir Launcelot suffered 
him, and would not strike again. Then Sir Bohort encountered 
with King Arthur, and smote him down ; and he alighted and 
drew his sword, and said to Sir Launcelot, "Shall I make an 
end of this war?" for he meant to have slain King Arthur. 
"Not so," said Sir Launcelot, "touch him no more, for I will 
never see that most noble king that made me knight either 
slain or shamed ; " and therewith Sir Launcelot alighted off his 
horse and took up the king, and horsed him again, and said 
thus : " My lord Arthur, for God's love, cease this strife." And 
King Arthur looked upon Sir Launcelot, and the tears burst 
from his eyes, thinking on the great courtesy that was in Sir 
Launcelot more than in any other man ; and therewith the 
king rode his way. Then anon both parties withdrew to repose 
them, and buried the dead. 

But the war continued, and it was noised abroad through all 
Christendom, and at last it was told afore the pope ; and he, 
considering the great goodness of King Arthur, and of Sir 
Launcelot, called unto him a noble clerk, which was the Bishop 
of Rochester, wlio Avas then in his dominions, and sent him to 
King Arthur, charging him that he take his queen, dame 
Guenever, unto him again, and make j)eace with Sir Launcelot. 

So, by means of this bishop, peace was made for the space of 
one )^ear; and King Arthur received back the queen, and Sir 
Launcelot departed from the kingdom with all his knights, and 
went to his own country. So they shipped at Cardiff, and 
sailed unto Benvvick, which some men call Bayonne. And all 
the people of those lands came to Sir Launcelot, and received 
him home right joyfully. And Sir Launcelot stablished and 
garnished all his towns and castles, and he greatly advanced all 
his noble knights, Sir Lionel and Sir Bohort, and Sir Hector de 
Marys, Sir Blamor, Sir Lawayne, and many others, and made 
them lords of lands and castles ; till he left himself no more 
than any one of them. 

But when the year was passed. King Arthur and Sir Gawain 
came with a great host, and landed upon Sir Launcelot's lands. 



vt! 



SIR AGRIVAIX'S TREASON. 179 

and burnt and wasted all that they might overrun. Then spake 
Sir Bohort and said, " My lord, Sir Launcelot, give us leave to 
meet them in the field, and ^ye shall make them rue the time 
that ever they came to this country." Then said Sir Launce- 
lot, "I am full loath to ride out with my knights for shedding 
of Christian blood ; so we will yet awhile keep our walls, and I 
will send a messenger unto my lord Arthur, to propose a treaty ; 
for better is peace than always war." So Sir Launcelot sent 
forth a damsel, and a dwarf with her, requiring King Arthur to 
leave his warring upon his lands ; and so she started on a pal- 
frey, and the dwarf ran by her side. And when she came to 
the pavilion of King Arthur, she alighted, and there met her a 
gentle knight. Sir Lucan the butler, and said, " Fair damsel, 
come ye from Sir Launcelot du Lac ? " " Yea, sir," she said, 
^'I come hither to speak with the king." "Alas!" said Sir 
Lucan, " my lord Arthur would be reconciled to Sir Launcelot, 
but Sir Gawain will not suffer him." And with this Sir Lucan 
led the damsel to the king, where he sat with Sir Gawain, to 
hear what she would say. So when she had told her tale, the 
tears ran out of the king's eyes ; and all the lords were forward 
to advise the king to be accorded with Sir Launcelot, save only 
Sir Gawain; and he said, "My lord, mine uncle, what will ye 
do? Will you now turn back, now you are so far advanced 
upon your journey? If ye do, all the world will speak shame 
of you." ^'Xay," said King Arthur, "I will do as ye advise 
me ; but do thou give the damsel her answer, for I may not 
speak to her for pity." 

Then said Sir Gawain, " Damsel, say ye to Sir Launcelot, that 
it is waste labor to sue to mine uncle for peace, and say that I, 
Sir Gawain, send liim word that I promise him, by the faith I 
owe unto God and to knighthood, I shall never leave him till 
he have slain me or I him." So the damsel returned ; and when 
Sir Launcelot had heard this answer, the tears ran down his 
cheeks. 

Then it befell on a day Sir Gawain came before the gates, 
armed at all points, and cried with a loud voice, " AThere art 
thou now, thou false traitor. Sir Launcelot ? Why hidest thou 
thyself within holes and walls like a coward ? Look out now. 



180 KING ARTHUE AND HIS KNIGHTS. 

thou traitor knight, and I will avenge upon thy body the death 
of my three brethren." All this language heard Sir Launcelot, 
and the knights which were about him ; and they said to him, 
" Sir Launcelot, now must ye defend you like a knight, or else 
be shamed for ever, for you have slept overlong and suffered 
overmuch." Then Sir Launcelot spake on high unto King Ar- 
thur, and said, " My lord Arthur, now I have forborne long, 
and suffered you and Sir Gawain to do wdiat ye would, and now 
must I needs defend myself, inasmuch as Sir Gawain hath ap- 
pealed me of treason." Then Sir Launcelot armed him and 
mounted upon his horse, and the noble knights came out of the 
city, and the host without stood all apart ; and so the cove- 
nant was made that no man should come near the two knights, 
nor deal with them, till one w^ere dead or yielded. 

Then Sir Gawain and Sir Launcelot departed a great way 
in sunder, and then they came together with all their horses' 
might as they might run, and either smote the other in the 
midst of their shields, but the knights were so strong, and their 
spears so big, that their horses might not endure their buffets, 
and so the horses fell to the earth. And then they avoided 
their horses, and dressed their shields afore them. Then they 
stood together, and gave many sad strokes on divers places of 
their bodies, that the blood burst out on many sides and places. 
Then had Sir Gawain such a grace and gift that an holy man 
had given to him, that every day in the year, from morning 
till high noon, his might increased those three hours, as much 
as thrice his strength, and that caused Sir Gawain to win 
great honor. And for his sake King Arthur made an ordi- 
nance that all manner of battles for any quarrels that should 
be done before King Arthur should begin at Underne,^ and all 
was done for Sir Gawain's love, that by likelihood if that Sir 
Gawain Avere on the one part he should have the better in 
battle, whilst his strength endured three hours, but there were 
few knights that time living that knew this advantage that 
Sir Gawain had, but King Arthur only. Thus Sir Launcelot 
fought with Sir Gawain, and when Sir Launcelot felt his might 
evermore increase, Sir Launcelot Avondered and dread him sore 

* Underlie. The third hour iu the day, nine o'clock. 



SIR agrivain's treason. 181 

to be ashamed. For Sir Launcelot thought when he felt Sh* 
Gawain double his strength, that he had been a fiend, and no 
earthly man; wherefore Sir Launcelot traced and traversed, 
and covered himself with his shield, and kept his might and 
his braid during three hours ; and that while Sir Gawain gave 
him many sad brunts and many sad strokes, that all the knights 
that beheld Sir Launcelot marvelled how he might endure him, 
but full little understood they that travail that Sir Launcelot 
had for to endure him. And then when it was past noon Sir 
Gawain had no more but his own might. Then Sir Launcelot 
felt him so come down; then he stretched him up, and stood 
near Sir Gawain, and said thus : " My lord Sir Gawain, now I 
fear ye have done ; now my lord Sir Gawain, I must do my 
part, for many great and grievous strokes I have endured you 
this day with great pain." Then Sir Launcelot doubled his 
strokes, and gave Sir Gawain such a buffet on the helmet that 
he fell down on his side, and Sir Launcelot withdrew from 
him. "Why turnest thou thee?" said Sir Gawain; "now 
turn again, false traitor knight, and slay me; for an thou leave 
me thus, when I am whole, I shall do battle with thee again." 
" I shall endure you, sir, by God's grace, but wit thou well. Sir 
Gawain, I will never smite a felled knight." And so Sir 
Launcelot went into the city, and Sir Gawain was borne into 
one of King Arthur's pavilions, and leeches were brought to 
him, and he was searched and salved with soft ointments. 
And then Sir Launcelot said, " Now have good day,' my lord 
the king, for, wit you well, ye win no worship at these walls ; 
and if I would my knights out bring, there should many a 
man die. Therefore, my lord Arthur, remember you of old 
kindness, and however I fare, Jesus be your guide in all 
places." 

Thus the siege endured, and Sir Gawain lay helpless near a 
month ; and when he was near recovered, came tidings unto 
King Arthur that made him return with all his host to 
Eno'land. 




CHAPTER XYIII. 

M O E T E D ' A R T H U K . 

" And now the whole KouxD Table is dissolved, 
Which was an image of the mighty world, 
And I, the last, go forth companionless ; 
And the days darken round me, and the years 
Among new men, strange faces, other minds," — Tennyson. 



SIR MODRED was left ruler of all England, and he 
caused letters to be written, as if from beyond sea, that 
King Arthur was slain in battle. So he called a Parliament, 
and made himself be crowned king; and he took the queen, 
Guenever, and said plainly that he would wed her, but she 
escaped from him, and took refuge in the Tower of London. 
And Sir Modred went and laid siege about the Tower of 
London, and made great assaults thereat, but all might not 
avail him. Then came word to Sir Modred that King Arthur 
liad raised the siege of Sir Launcelot, and was coming home. 
Then Sir Modred summoned all the barony of the land ; and 
much people drew unto Sir Modred, and said they would 
abide with him for better and for worse ; and he drew a great 
182 



MORTE d'aRTHUR. 183 

host to Dover, for there he heard say that King Arthur would 
arrive. 

And as Sir Modred was at Dover with his host, carae King 
Arthur, w^ith a great number of ships and galleys, and there 
Avas Sir Modred awaiting upon the landing. Then was there 
launching of great boats and small, full of noble men of arms, 
and there was much slaughter of gentle knights on both parts. 
But King Arthur was so courageous, there might no manner of 
knights prevent him to land, and his knights fiercely followed 
him ; and so they landed, and put Sir Modred aback so that 
he fled, and all his people. And when the battle was done, 
King Arthur commanded to bury his people that were dead. 
And then was noble Sir Gawain Jound, in a great boat, lying 
more than half dead. And King Arthur went to him, and 
made sorrow out of measure. "Mine uncle," said Sir Gawain, 
"know thou w^ell my death-jglay is come, and all is through 
mine own hastiness and wilfulness, for I am smitten upon the 
old wound w^hich Sir Launcelot gave me, of the which I feel I 
must die. And had Sir Launcelot been with you as of old, 
this war had never begun, and of all this I am the cause." 
Then Sir Gawain prayed the king to send for Sir Launcelot, 
and to cherish him above all other knights. And so, at the 
hour of noon, Sir Gawain yielded up his spirit, and then the 
king bade inter him in a chapel within Dover Castle; and 
there all men may see the skull of him, and the same wound 
is seen that Sir Launcelot gave him in battle. 

Then was it told the king that Sir Modred had pitched his 
camp upon Barrendown ; and the king rode thither, and 
there was a great battle betwixt them, and King Arthur's 
party stood best, and Sir Modred and his party fled unto 
Canterbury. 

And there was a day assigned betwixt King Arthur and Sir 
Modred that they should meet upon a down beside Salisbury, 
and not far from the seaside, to do battle yet again. And at 
night, as the king slept, he dreamed a w^onderful dream. It 
seemed him verily that there came Sir Gawain unto him, with 
a number of fair ladies with him. And when King Arthur 
saw him, he said, "Welcome, my sister's son; I weened thou 



184 KING ARTHUR AND HIS KNIGHTS. 

hadst been dead; and now I see thee alive, great is my joy. 
Bat, O fair nephew, what be these ladies that hither be come 
with you ? " " Sir," said Sir Gawain, " all these be ladies for 
whom I have fought when I was a living man ; and because I 
did battle for them in righteous quarrel, they have given me 
grace to bring me hither unto you, to warn you of your 
death, if ye fight to-morrow with Sir Modred. Tlierefore 
take ye treaty, and proffer you largely for a month's delay ; 
for within a month shall come Sir Launcelot and all his noble 
knights, and rescue you worshipfully, and slay Sir Modred and 
all that hold with him." And then Sir Gawain and all the 
ladies vanished. And anon the king called to fetch his noble 
lords and wise bishops unto him. And when they were come, 
the king told them his vision, and wliat Sir Gawain had told 
him. Then the king sent Sir Lucan the butler, and Sir Bedi- 
vere, with two bishops, and charged them in any wise to take 
a treaty for a month and a day with Sh- Modred. So they 
departed, and came to Sir Modred ; and so, at the last, Sir 
Modred was agreed to have Cornwall and Kent, during Ar- 
thur's life, and all England after liis death. 

Then was it agreed that King Arthur and Sir Modred 
should meet betwixt both their hosts, and each of them should 
bring fourteen persons, and then and there they should sign 
the treaty. And Avhen King Arthur and his knights were pre- 
pared to go forth, he warned all his host, " If so be ye see any 
sword drawn, look ye come on fiercely, and slay whomsoever 
withstandeth, for I in no wise trust that traitor. Sir Modred." 
In likewise Sir Modred warned his host. So they met, and 
were agreed and accorded thoroughly. And wine was brought, 
and they drank. Right then came an adder out of a little 
heath-bush, and stung a knight on the foot. And when the 
knight felt him sting, he looked down and saw the adder, and 
then he drew his sword to slay the adder, and thought of no 
other harm. And when the host on both sides saw that sword 
drawn, they blew trumpets and horns, and shouted greatly. 
And King Arthur took his horse, and rode to his party, saying, 
"Alas, this unhaj^py day ! " And Sir Modred did in like wise. 
And never was there a more doleful battle in Cliristian land. 



MOFvTE d' ARTHUR. 185 

And ever King Arthur rode throughout the battle, and did 
full nobly, as a worthy king should, and Sir Modred that day 
did his devoir, and put himself in great peril. And thus they 
fought all the long day, till the most of all the noble knights 
lay dead upon the ground. Then the king looked about him, 
and saw of all his host were left alive but two knights. Sir 
Lucan the butler, and Sir Bedivere his brother, and they were 
full sore w^ounded. 

Then King Arthur saw where Sir Modred leaned upon his 
sword among a great heap of dead men. "ISTow give me my 
spear," said Arthur unto Sir Lucan, "for yonder I esj^y the trai- 
tor that hath wrought all this woe." " Sir, let him be," said Sir 
Lucan ; " for if ye pass this unhappy day ye shall be right well 
revenged upon him. Remember what the sprite of Sir Gawain. 
told you, and leave off now, for ye have w^on the field ; and if 
ye leave off now this evil day of destiny is past." " Betide 
me life, betide me death," said King Arthur, "he shall not 
now escape my hands." /Then the king took his spear in both 
hands, and ran toward fefr Modred, crying, " Traitor, now is 
thy death-day come." And there King Arthur smote Sir 
Modred under the shield, with a thrust of his spear through 
the body. And when Sir Modred felt that he had his death- 
wound, with the might that he had he smote King Arthur, with 
his sword holden in both his hands, on the side of the head, 
that the sword pierced the helmet and the brain-pan ; and then 
Sir Modred fell stark dead upon the earth. And the noble 
Arthur fell in a swoon to the earth. And Sir Lucan the but- 
ler and Sir Bedivere raised him up, and gently led him be- 
twixt them both to a little chapel not far from the seaside. And 
when the king was there he thought him well eased. Then 
heard they people cry in the field. And Sir Lucan went to see 
what that cry betokened; and he saw by the moonlight that 
pillers"*^ and robbers were come to rob the dead. And he re- 
turned, and said to the king, "By my rede, it is best that we 
bring you to some town." " I would it were so," said the 
king. And when the king tried to go he fainted. Then Sir 
Lucan took up the king on the one part, and Sir Bedivere on 

* Pluuderers : the word is uot now used. 



186 IvIXG AETHUR AND HIS KNIGHTS. 

the other part ; and in the lifting Sir Lucan fell in a swoon to 
the earth, for he was grievously wounded. And then the 
noble knight's heart burst. And when the king awoke he be- 
held Sir Lucan, how he lay foaming at the mouth, and speech- 
less. "Alas ! " said the king, " this is to me a full heavy sight, 
to see this noble duke so die for my sake ; for he would have 
holpen me that had more need of help than I, and he would 
not complain, his heart was so set to help me." Then Sir Bedi- 
vere wept for his brother. " Leave this mourning and weep- 
ing," said the king, "for wit thou well, if I might live myself, 
the death of Sir Lucan would grieve me evermore ; but my time 
liieth fast. Therefore," said Arthur unto Sir Bedivere, "take 
thou Excalibar, my good sword, and go with it to yonder water- 
side ; and when thou comest there I charge thee throw my 
sword in tliat water, and come again and tell me what thou 
there seest." "My lord," said Sir Bedivere, "your command- 
ment shall be done." So Sir Bedivere de23arted, and by the 
way he beheld that noble sword, that the pommel and the haft 
were all of precious stones ; and then he said to himself, " If I 
throw this rich sword into the water no good shall come 
thereof, but only harm and loss." And then Sir Bedivere 
hid Excalibar under a tree. And so, as soon as he might, he 
came again unto the king. " AYhat sawest thou there ? " said 
the king. " Sir," he said, " I saw nothing." "Alas ! thou hast 
deceived me," said the king. " Go thou lightly again, and as thou 
love me, spare not to throw it in." Then Sir Bedivere went 
again, and took the sword in his hand to throw it; but again 
it beseemed him but sin and shame to throw away that noble 
sword, and he hid it away again, and returned, and told the 
king he had done his commandment. " What sawest thou 
there?" said the king. "Sir," he said, "I saw nothing but 
waters deep and waves wan." "Ah, traitor untrue!" said 
King Arthur, "now hast thou betrayed me twice. And yet 
thou art named a noble knight, and hast been lief and dear to 
me. But now go again, and do as I bid thee, for thy long tar- 
rying putteth nie in jeopardy of my life." Then Sir Bedi- 
vere went to the sword, and lightly took it up, and went to the 
water -side, and he bound the girdle about the hilt, and then he 



MORTE d' ARTHUR. 187 

threw the sword as far int-o the water as he might. And there 
came an arm and a hand out of the water and met it, and 
caught it, and shook it thrice and brandished it, and then van- 
ished away the hand with the sword in the water. 

Then Sir Bedivere came again to the king, and told him 
what he saw. " Help me hence," said the king, " for I fear I 
have tarried too lono*." Then Sir Bedivere took the kino- on 
his back, and so went with him to that water-side ; and when 
they came there, even fast by the bank there rode a little barge 
with many fair ladies in it, and among them w^as a queen ; and 
all had black hoods, and they wept and shrieked when they 
saw King Arthur. 

" Xow put me in the barge," said the king. And there re- 
ceived him three queens with great mourning, and in one of 
their laps King Arthur laid his head. And the queen said, 
"Ah, dear brother, why have ye tarried so long ? Alas ! this 
wound on your head hath caught overmuch cold." And then 
they rowed from the land, and Sir Bedivere beheld them go 
from him. Then he cried : "Ah, my lord Arthur, will ye leave 
me here alone among mine enemies ? " " Comfort thyself," said 
the king, " for in me is no further help ; for I will to the Isle of 
Avalon, to heal me of my grievous wound." And as soon as 
Sir Bedivere had lost sight of the barge he wept and wailed ; 
then he took the forest, and went all that night, and in tlie 
morning he was ware of a chapel and a hermitage. 

Then went Sir Bedivere thither ; and when he came into the 
chapel he saw where lay an hermit on the ground, near a tomb 
that was newly graven. " Sir," said Sir Bedivere, " what man 
is there buried that ye pray so near unto ? " " Fair son," said 
the hermit, " I know not verily. But this night there came a 
number of ladies, and brought hither one dead, and prayed me to 
bury him." "Alas ! " said Sir Bedivere, " that was my lord, King 
Arthur." Then Sir Bedivere swooned ; and when he awoke 
he prayed the hermit he might abide with him, to live Avith 
fasting and prayers. " Ye are welcome," said the hermit. So 
there bode Sir Bedivere with the hermit ; and he put on poor 
clothes, and served the hermit full lowly in fasting and in 
prayers. 



188 KING ARTHUR AND HIS KNIGHTS. 

Thus Oj. Arthur I find never more written in books that be 
authorized, nor more of the very certainty of his death; but 
thus was he led away in a shijj, wherein were three queens ; 
the one was King Arthur's sister, Queen Morgane le Fay ; the 
other was Yiviane, the Lady of the Lake ; and the third was 
the queen of ISTorth Galis. And this tale Sir Bedivere, knight 
of the Table Round, made to be written. 

Yet some men say that King Arthur is not dead, but hid 
away into another place, and men say that he shall come again 
and reign over England. But many say that there is written on 
his tomb this verse : — 

" Hie jacet Artkurus, Rex quondam, Rexque futurus." 
Here Arthur lies, King once and King to be. 

And when Queeu Guenever understood that King Arthur 
was slain, and all the noble knights with him, she stole away, 
and five ladies with her; and so she went to Almesbury, and 
made herself a nun, and ware white clothes and black, and 
took great penance as ever did sinful lady, and lived in fast- 
ing, prayers, and alms-deeds. And there she was abbess and 
ruler of the nuns. Now turn we from her, and speak of Sir 
Launcelot of the Lake. 

When Sir Launcelot heard in his country that Sir Modred 
was crowned king of England and made war against his own 
uncle, King Arthur, then was Sir Launcelot wroth out of meas- 
ure, and said to his kinsmen : "Alas, tliat double traitor. Sir 
Modred ! now it repenteth me that ever he escaped out of my 
hands." Then Sir Launcelot and his fellows made ready in 
all haste, with ships and galleys, to pass into England ; and so 
he passed over till he came to Dover, and there he landed with 
a great army. Then Sir Launcelot was told that King Arthur 
was slain. "Alas!" said Sir Launcelot, "this is the heaviest 
tidings that ever came to me." Then he called the kings, 
dukes, barons, and knights, and said thus : " My fair lords, I 
thank you all for coming into this country with me, but we 
came too late, and that shall repent me while I live. But since 
it is so," said Sir Launcelot, " I will myself ride and seek my 
lady. Queen Guenever, for I have heard say she hath fled into 
the west ; therefore ye shall abide me here 'fifteen days, and if 



MORTE D' ARTHUR. 189 

I come not within that time, then take your ships and your 
host and depart into your country." 

So Sir Launcelot departed and rode westerly, and there he 
sought many days ; and at last he came to a nunnery, and was 
seen of Queen Guenever as he walked in the cloister ; and when 
she saw him, she swooned away. And when she might S23eak, 
she bade him to be called to her. And when Sir Launcelot 
was brought to her, she said : " Sir Launcelot, I require thee 
and beseech thee, for all the love that ever v/as betwixt us, 
that thou never see me more, but return to thy kingdom and 
take thee a wife, and live with her Avith joy and bliss ; and 
pray for me to my Lord, that I may get my soul's health." 
"Xay, madam," said Sir Launcelot, "wit you well that I shall 
never do ; but the same destiny that ye have taken you to will 
I take me unto, for to please and serve God." 4-^d so they 
parted, with tears and much lamentation ; and the ladies bare 
the queen to her chamber, and Sir Launcelot took his horse and 
rode away, weeping. 

And at last Sir Launcelot w^as ware of a hermitage and 
a chapel, and then he heard a little bell ring to mass; and 
thither he rode and alighted, and tied his horse to the gate, 
and heard mass. And he that sang the mass was the hermit 
Avith whom Sir Bedivere had taken u]) his abode ; and Sir 
Bedivere knew Sir Launcelot, and they spake together after 
mass. But when Sir Bedivere had told his tale. Sir Launce- 
lot's heart almost burst for sorrow. Then he kneeled down, 
and prayed the hermit to shrive him, and besought that he 
might be his brother. Then the hermit said, " I will gladly ; " 
and then he put a habit upon Sir Launcelot, and there he 
served God day and night, with j^i'ayers and fastings. 

And the great host abode at Dover till the end of the fifteen 
days set by Sir Launcelot, and then Sir Bohort made them to 
go home again to their own country ; and Sir Bohort, Sir 
Hector de Marys, Sir Blanor, and many others, took on them 
to ride through all England to «eek Sir Launcelot. So Sir 
Bohort by fortune rode until he came to the same chapel where 
Sir Launcelot was ; and when he saw Sir Launcelot in that 
manner of clothing, he prayed the hermit that he might be in 



190 KING ARTHUR AND HIS KNIGHTS. 

that same. And so there was an habit put upon him, and 
there he lived in prayers and fasting. And within half a year 
came others of the knights, their fellows, and took such a habit 
as Sir Launcelot and Sir Bohort had. Thus they endured in 
great penance six years. 

And upon a night there came a vision to Sir Launcelot, and 
charged him to haste him toward Almesbury, and " by the time 
thou come there, thou shalt find Queen Guenever dead." Then 
Sir Launcelot rose up early, and told the hermit thereof. Tlien 
said the hermit, "It were well that ye disobey not this vision." 
And Sir Launcelot took his seven companions with him, and 
on foot they went from Glastonbury to Almesbury, which is 
more than thirty miles. And when they were come to Almes- 
bury, they found that Queen Guenever died but half an hour 
before. Then Sir Launcelot saw her visage, but he wept not 
greatly, but siglied. And so he did all the observance of the 
service himself, both the " dirige " at niglit, and at morn he 
sang mass. And there was prepared an horse-bier, and Sir 
Launcelot and his fellows followed the bier on foot from 
Almesbury until they came to Glastonbury ; and she Avas 
wrapped in cered clothes, and laid in a coffin of marble. And 
when she was put in the earth. Sir Launcelot swooned, and lay 
long as one dead. 

And Sir Launcelot never after ate but little meat, nor 
drank ; but continually mourned. And wdthin six weeks Sir 
Launcelot fell sick ; and he sent for the hermit and all his true 
fellows, and said, " Sir hermit, I pray you give me all my 
rights that a Christian man ouglit to have." "It shall not 
need," said the hermit and all his fellows; "it is but heaviness 
of your blood, and to-morrow morn you shall be well." " My 
fair lords," said Sir Launcelot, " my careful body will into the 
earth ; I have warning more than now I will say ; therefore 
give me my rights." So when he was houseled and aneled, 
and had all that a Christian man ought to have, he prayed the 
hermit that his fellows miglit bear his body to Joyous Garde. 
(Some men say it was Alnwick, and some say it was Bam- 
borough.) "It repenteth me sore," said Sir Launcelot, "but I 
made a vow aforetime that in Joyous Garde I would be 



MORTE d'aRTHUR. 191 

buried." Then there was weeping and wringing of hands 
among his fellows. And that night Sir Laiincelot died ; and 
when Sir Bohort and his fellows came to his bedside the next 
morning, they found him stark dead ; and he lay as if he had 
smiled, and the sweetest savor all about him that ever they 
knew. 

And they put Sir Launcelot into the same horse-bier that 
Queen Guenever was laid in, and the hermit and they all 
together went with the body till they came to Joyous Garde. 
And there they laid his corpse in the body of the quire, and 
sang and read many psalms and prayers over him. And ever 
his visage was laid open and naked, that all folks might behold 
him. And right thus, as they were at their service, there came 
Sir Hector de Marys, that had seven years sought Sir Launcelot 
his brother, through all England, Scotland and TTales. And 
when Sir Hector heard such sounds in the chapel of Joyous 
Garde, he alighted and came into the quire. And all they 
knew Sir Hector. Then went Sir Bohort, and told him how 
there lay Sir Launcelot his brother, dead. Then Sir Hector 
threw his shield, his sword, and helm from him. And when he 
beheld Sir Launcelot's visage, it were hard for any tongue to 
tell the doleful complaints he made for his brother. " All, Sir 
Launcelot ! " he said, "there thou liest. And now I dare to say 
thou wert never matched of none earthly knight's hand. And 
thou wert the courteousest knight that ever bare shield ; and 
thou wert the truest friend to thy lover that ever bestrode 
horse ; and thou wert the truest lover, of a sinful man, that 
ever loved woman ; and thou wert the kindest man that ever 
struck wdth sword. And thou wert the goodliest person that 
ever came among press of knights. And thou wert the meekest 
man, and the gentlest, that ever ate in hall among ladies. And 
thou wert the sternest knight to thy mortal foe that ever put 
spear in the rest." Then there was weeping and dolor out of 
measure. Thus they kept Sir Launcelot's corpse fifteen days, 
and then they buried it with great devotion. 

Then they went back with the hermit to his hermitage. And 
Sir Bedivere was there ever still hermit to his life's end. And 
Sir Bohort, Sir Hector, Sir Blanor and Sir Bleoberis went 



192 KING ARTHUR AND HIS KNIGHTS. 

into the Holy Land. And these four knights did many- 
battles upon the miscreants, the Turks ; and there they died 
upon a Good Friday, as it pleased God. 

Thus endeth this noble and joyous book, entitled La Morte 
d' Arthur ; notwithstanding it treateth of the birth, life and acts 
of the said King Arthur, and of his noble Knights of the Round 
Table, their marvellous enquests and adventures, the achieving 
of the Sangreal, and in the end, la Morte d'Arthur, with the 
dolorous death and departing out of this w^orld of them all. 
Which book was reduced into English by Sir Thomas Mallory, 
Knight, and divided into twenty-one books, chaptered and im- 
printed and finished in the Abbey Westmestre, the last day 
of July, the year of our Lord MCCCCLXXXV. 

Caxton me fieri fecit. 



THE AGE OF CHIVALRY. 



PART II. 
THE MABINOGEOK 




THE MABINOGEON. 



CHAPTER XIX. 

THE BRITOXS. 

THE earliest inhabitants of Britain are supposed to have 
been a branch of that great family known in history by 
the designation of Celts. Cambria, which is a frequent name 
for Wales, is thought to be derived from Cymri, the name 
which the Welsh traditions apply to an immigrant people who 
entered the island from the adjacent continent. This name is 
thought to be identical with those of Cimmerians and Cimbri, 
under which the Greek and Roman historians describe a bar- 
barous people, who spread themselves from the north of the 
Euxine over the whole of Xorthwestern Europe. 

The origin of the names Wales and Welsh has been much 
canvassed. Some writers make them a derivation from Gael 
or Gaul, which names are said to signify " woodlanders ; " 

195 



196 THE MABINOGEON. 

others observe that Walsh, in the Northern languages, signifies 
a stratiger, and that the aboriginal Britons were so called by 
those who at a later era invaded the island and possessed the 
greater part of it, the Saxons and Angles. 

The Romans held Britain from the invasion of Julius Caesar 
till their voluntary withdrawal from the island, A.D. 420, — that 
is, about five hundred years. In that time there must have 
been a wide diffusion of their arts and institutions among the 
natives. The remains of roads, cities, and fortifications show 
that they did much to develop and improve the country, 
while those of their villas and castles prove that many of the 
settlers possessed wealth and taste for the ornamental arts. 
Yet the Roman sway was sustained chiefly by force, and never 
extended over the entire island. The northern portion, now 
Scotland, remained indei^endent, and the western portion, con- 
stituting Wales and Cornwall, was only nominally subjected. 

Neither did the later invading hordes succeed in subduing 
the remoter sections of the island. For ages after the arrival 
of the Saxons under Hengist and Horsa, A.D. 449, the whole 
western c6ast of Britain was possessed by the aboriginal 
inhabitants, engaged in constant warfare with the invaders. 

It has, therefore, been a favorite boast of the people of 
Wales and Cornwall, that the original British stock flourishes 
in its unmixed purity only among them. We see this notion 
flashing out in poetry occasionally, as when Gray, in "The 
Bard," prophetically describing Queen Elizabeth, who was of 
the Tudor a Welsh race, says : 

" Her eye proclaims her of the Briton line " ; 

and, contrasting the princes of the Tudor with those of the 
Norman race, he exclaims : 

" All hail, ye genuine kings, Britannia's issue, hail ! " 

The Welsh Language and Literature. 

The Welsh language is one of the oldest in Europe. It 
possesses poems the origin of which is referred with probabil- 
ity to the sixth century. The language of some of these is so 



THE BRITONS. 197 

antiquated, that the best scholars differ about the interpreta- 
tion of many passages ; but, generally speaking, the body of 
poetry which the Welsh possess, from the year 1000 down- 
wards, is intelligible to those who are acquainted with the 
modern language. 

Till within the last half-century these compositions remained 
buried in the libraries of colleges or of individuals, and so dif- 
ficult of access that no successful attempt was made to give 
them to the world. This reproach was removed, after ineffec- 
tual appeals to the patriotism of the gentry of Wales, by 
Owen Jones, a furrier of London, who at his own expense col- 
lected and published the chief productions of Welsh literature, 
under the title of the Myvyrian Archaeology of Wales. In 
this task he was assisted by Dr. Owen and other Welsh 
scholars. 

After the cessation of Jones's exertions, the old apathy 
returned, and continued till within a few years. Dr. Owen 
exerted himself to obtain support for the publication of the 
Mabinogeon, or Prose Tales of the Welsh, but died without 
accomplishing his purpose, which has since been carried into 
execution by Lady Charlotte Guest. The legends which fill 
the remainder of this volume are taken from this work, of 
which we have already spoken more fully in the introductory 
chapter to the First Part. 



The Welsh Bakds. 

The authors to whom the oldest Welsh poems are attributed 
are Aneurin, who is supposed to have lived A.D. 500 to 550, 
and Taliesin, Llywarch Hen (Llywarch the Aged), and Myrd- 
din or Merlin, who were a few years later. The authenticity 
of the poems which bear their names has been assailed, and it 
is still an open question how many and which of them are 
authentic, though it is hardly to be doubted that some are so. 
The poem of Aneurin, entitled the "Gododin," bears very 
strong marks of authenticity. Aneurin was one of the North- 
ern Britons of Strath-Clyde, who have left to that part of the 
district they inhabited the name of Cumberland, or Land of 



198 THE MABINOGEON. 

the Cyrari. In this poem he laments the defeat of his coun- 
trymen by the Saxons at the battle of Cattraeth, in conse- 
quence of having partaken too freely of the mead before join- 
ing in combat. The bard himself and two of his fellow- 
warriors were all who escaped from the field. A portion of 
this poem has been translated by Gray, of which the following 
is an extract : — 

" To Cattraeth's vale, in <i'littering' row, 

Twice two hundred warriors go; 

Every warrior's manly neck 

Chains of regal honor deck, 

Wreathed in many a golden link; 

From the golden cup they drink 

Nectar that the bees produce, 

Or the grape's exalted juice. 

Flushed with mirth and hope they burn, 

But none to Cattraeth's vale return. 

Save Aeron brave, and Conan strong, 
• Bursting through the bloody throng, 

And I, the meanest of them all, 

That live to weep, and sing their fall." 

The works of Taliesin are of much more questionable au- 
thenticity. There is a story of the adventures of Taliesin so 
strongly marked with mythical traits as to cast suspicion on the 
w^ritings attributed to him. This story will be found in the 
subsequent pages. 

The Triads. 

The Triads are a peculiar species of poetical composition, of 
which the Welsh bards have left numerous examples. They 
are enumerations of a triad of persons, or events, or observa- 
tions, strung together in one short sentence. This form of com- 
position, originally invented, in all likelihood, to assist the 
memory, has been raised by the Welsh to a degree of ele- 
gance of which it hardly at first sight appears susceptible. 
The Triads are of all ages, some of them probably as old as 
anything in the language. Short as they are individually, the 
collection in the Myvyrian Archaeology occupies more than one 
hundred and seventy pages of double columns. We will give 



THE BRITONS. 199 

some specimens, beginning with personal triads, and gi\ing the 
first place to one of King Arthur'^ own composition; — 



" I have three heroes in battle ; 
Mael the tall, and Llyr, with his army, 
And Caradoc, the pillar of Wales." 

" The three principal bards of the island of Britain : — 
Merlin Ambrose 

Merlin the son of Morfyn, called also Merlin the "Wild, 
And Taliesin, the chief of the bards." 

" The three golden-tongued knights of the Court of Arthur: — 
Gawain, son of Gwyar, 
Drydvas, son of Tryphin, 
And Eliwlod, son of Madag, ap Uther," 

" The three honorable feasts of the island of Britain : — 
The feast of Caswallaun, after repelling Julius Caesar from this isle ; 
The feast of Aurelius Ambrosius, after he had conquei'ed the Saxons ; 
And the feast of King Arthur, at Caerleon uponUsk." 

" Guenever, the daughter of Laodegan the giant, 
Bad when little, worse when great." 

Next follow some moral triads : — 

" Hast thou heard what Dremhidydd sung, 
An ancient watchman on the castle walls ? 
A refusal is better than a promise unperformed." 

" Hast thou heard what Llenleawg sung, 
The noble chief wearing the golden torques ? 
The grave is better than a life of want." 

" Hast thou heard what Garselit sung. 
The Irishman whom it is safe to follow ? 
Sin is bad, if long pursued." 

" Hast thou heard what Avaon sung. 
The son of Taliesin, of the recording verse ? 
The cheek will not conceal the anguish of the heai't." 

" Didst thou hear what Llywarch sung, 
The intrepid and brave old man r 
Greet kindly, though there be no acquaintance." 



a\\\M>u 




CHAPTER XX. 

THE LADY OF THE FOUXTAIX. 

Kynon's Advextuee. 

KIXG ARTHUR was at Caerleon upon Usk ; and one day 
he sat in his chamber, and with him were Owain the son 
of Urien, and Kynon the son of Clydno, and Kay the son of 
Kyner, and Guenever and her handmaidens at needlework by 
the window. In the centre of the chamber King Arthur sat, 
upon a seat of green rushes,* over which was spread a cover- 
ing of flame-colored satin, and a cushion of red satin was under 
his elbow. 

Then Arthur spoke. " If I thought you would not disparage 
me," said he, " I would sleep while I wait for my repast ; and 
you can entertain one another with relating tales, and can 
obtain a flao-on of mead and some meat from Kav." And the 



* The use of g-reen rushes in apartments was by no means peculiar to the court 
of Caerleon upon Usk. Our ancestoi's had a great predilection for them, and they 
seem to have constituted an essential article, not only of comfort but of luxury. 
The custom of strewing the floor with rushes, it is well known, existed in Eng- 
land during the Middle Ages, and also in France. 
200 



THE LADY OF THE FOUNTAIX. 201 

king went to sleep. And Kynon the son of Clyd.no asked Kay 
for that which Arthur had promised them. " I too will have 
the good tale which he promised me," said Kay. "Xay," an- 
swered Kynon ; " fairer will it be for thee to fulfil Arthur's 
behest in the first place, and then we will tell thee the best tale 
that we know." So Kay went to the kitchen and to the mead- 
cellar, and returned, bearing a flagon of mead, and a golden 
goblet, and a handful of skewers, upon which were broiled 
collops of meat. Then they ate the collops, and began to 
drink the mead. " E'ow," said Kay, " it is time for you 
to give me my story." " Kynon," said Owain, " do thou 
pay to Kay the tale that is his due." " I will do so," answered 
Kynon. 

" I was the only son of ray mother and father, and I was 
exceedingly aspiring, and my daring was very great. I thought 
there was no enterprise in the world too mighty for me ; and 
after I had achieved all the adventures that were in my own 
country, I equipped myself, and set forth to journey through 
deserts and distant reo-ions. And at lenoth it chanced that I 
came to the fairest valley in the world, wherein were trees all 
of equal growth ; and a river ran through the valley, and a 
path was by the side of the river. And I followed the path 
until midday, and continued my journey along the remainder 
of the valley until the evening ; and at the extremity of a plain 
I came to a large and lustrous castle, at the foot of which was 
a torrent. And I approached the castle, and there I beheld 
two youths with yellow curling hair, each with a frontlet of 
gold upon his head, and clad in a garment of yellow satin ; and 
they had gold clasps upon their insteps. In the hand of each 
of them was an ivory bow, strung with the sinews of the stag, 
and their arrows and their shafts were of the bone of the 
whale, and were winged with jDcacocks' feathers. The shafts 
also had golden heads. And they had daggers with blades of 
gold, and with hilts of the bone of the whale. And they were 
shooting at a mark. 

" And a little way from them I saw a man in the prime of 
life, with his beard newly shorn, clad in a robe and mantle of 
yellow satin, and round the top of his mantle was a band of 



202 THE mabinogeo:n^. 

gold lace. On his feet were shoes of variegated leather,* 
fastened by two bosses of gold. When I saw him I went 
towards him and saluted him ; and such was his courtesy, that 
he no sooner received my greeting than he returned it. And 
he went with me towards the castle. Now there were no 
dwellers in the castle, except those Avho were in one hall. And 
there I saw four and twenty damsels, embroidering satin at a 
window. And this I tell thee, Kay, that the least fair of them 
was fairer than the fairest maid thou didst ever behold in the 
island of Britain ; and the least lovely of them was more lovely 
than Guenever, the Avife of Arthur, w4ien she appeared love- 
liest, at the feast of Easter. They rose up at my coming, and 
six of them took my horse, and divested me of my armor, and 
six others took my arms, and washed them in a vessel till they 
w^ere perfectly bright. And the third six spread cloths upon 
the tables, and prepared meat. And the fourth six took off 
my soiled garments, and placed others upon me, namely, an 
under vest and a doublet of fine linen, and a robe and a 
surcoat, and a mantle of yellow satin, with a broad gold band 
upon the mantle. And they placed cushions both beneath and 
around me, with coverings of red linen. And I sat down. 
Now the six maidens who had taken my horse unharnessed 
him as well as if they had been the best squires in the island 
of Britain. 

" Then behold they brought bowls of silver, wherein was 
water to wash, and towels of linen, some green and some 
white ; and I washed. And in a little while the man sat down 
at the table. And I sat next to him, and below me sat all the 
maidens, except those who waited on us. And the table was 
of silver, and the cloths upon the table were of linen. And no 
vessel was served upon the table that was not either of gold or 
of silver or of buffalo-horn. And our meat was brought to us. 
And verily, Kay, I saw there every sort of meat and every sort 
of liquor that I ever saw elsewhere ; but the meat and the 

* Cordwal is the word in the original, and from the manner in which it is used 
it is evidentl}' intended for the French Cordouan or Cordovan leather, which 
derived its name from Cordova, Avhere it was manufactured. From this comes 
also our English word cordwainer. 



THE LADY OF THE FOUNTAIN. 203 

liquor were better served there than I ever saw them in any- 
other place. 

"Until the repast was half over, neither the man nor any 
one of the damsels spoke a single word to me ; but when the 
man perceived that it would be more agreeable for me to 
converse than to eat any more, he began to inquire of me who 
I was. Then I told the man who I was, and what was the 
cause of my journey, and said that I was seeking whether any 
one was superior to me, or whether I could gain the mastery 
over all. The man looked upon me, and he smiled and said, 
' If I did not fear to do thee a mischief, I would show thee that 
which thou seekest.' Then I desired him to sj^eak freely. 
And he said : ' Sleep here to-night, and in the morning arise 
early, and take the road upwards through the valley, until 
thou reachest the wood. A little way within the wood thou 
wilt come to a large sheltered glade, with a mound in the 
centre. And thou wilt see a black man of great stature on the 
top of the mound. He has but one foot, and one eye in the 
middle of his forehead. He is the wood-ward of that wood. 
And thou wilt see a thousand wild animals grazing around 
him. Inquire of him the way out of the glade, and he will 
reply to thee briefly, and will point out the road by which thou 
shalt find that which thou art in quest of.' 

" And long seemed that night to me. And the next morning 
I arose and equipped myself, and mounted my horse, and 
proceeded straight through the valley, to the wood, and at 
length I arrived at the glade. And the black man was there, 
sitting upon the top of the mound; and I was three times 
more astonished at the number of wild animals that I beheld, 
than the man had said I should be. Then I inquired of him 
the way^, and he asked me roughly whither I would go. And 
when I had told him who I was, and what I sought, ' Take,' 
said he, ' that path that leads toward the head of the glade, and 
there thou wilt find an open space like to a large valley, and in 
the midst of it a tall tree. Under this tree is a fountain, and 
by the side of the fountain a marble slab, and on the marble 
slab a silver bowl, attached by a chain of silver, that it may not 
be carried away. Take the bowl, and throw a bowlful of 



204 THE MABINOGEON. 

water on the slab. And if thou dost not find trouble in that 
adventure, thou needest not seek it during the rest of thy life.' 
" So I journeyed on until I reached the summit of the steep. 
And there I found everything as the black man had described 
it to me. And I went up to the tree, and beneath it I saw the 
fountain, and by its side the marble slab, and the silver bowl 
fastened by the chain. Then I took the bowl, and cast a bowl 
full of water uj^on the slab. And immediately I heard a mighty 
peal of thunder, so that heaven and earth seemed to tremble 
with its fury. And after the thunder came a shower ; and of 
a truth I tell thee, Kay, that it was such a shower as neither 
man nor beast could endure and live. I turned my horse's 
flank toward the shower, and placed the beak of my shield 
over his head and neck, while I held the upper part of it over 
my own neck. And thus I withstood the shower. And pres> 
ently the sky became clear, and with that, behold, the birds 
lighted upon the tree, and sang. And truly, Kay, I never heard 
any melody equal to that, either before or since. And when I 
was most charmed with listening to the birds, lo ! a chiding 
voice was heard of one approaching me, and saying, ' O knight, 
what has brought thee hither? What evil have I done to thee, 
that thou shouldst act towards me and my possessions as 
thou hast this day ? Dost thou not know that the shower to- 
day has left in my dominions neither man nor beast alive that 
was exposed to it?' And thereupon, behold, a knight on a 
black horse appeared, clothed in jet-black velvet, and with a 
tabard of black linen about him. And we charged each other, 
and, as the onset was furious, it was not long before I was 
overthrown. Then the knight passed the shaft of his lance 
through tlie bridle-rein of my horse, and rode off with the two 
horses, leaving me where I was. And he did not even bestow 
so much notice upon me as to imprison me, nor did he despoil 
me of ray arms. So I returned along the road by which I had 
come. And when I reached the glade where the black man 
was, I confess to thee, Kay, it is a marvel that I did not melt 
down into a liquid pool, through the shame I felt at the black 
man's derision. And that night I came to the same castle 
where I had spent the night preceding. And I was more agree- 



THE LADY OF THE FOUNTAIN. 205 

ably entertained that night than I had been the night before. 
And I conversed freely with the inmates of the castle; and 
none of them alluded to my expedition to the fountain, neither 
did I mention it to any. And I remained there that night. 
When I arose on the morrow I found ready saddled a dark bay 
palfrey, with nostrils as red as scarlet. And after putting on 
my armor, and leaving there my blessing, I returned to my own 
court. And that horse I still possess, and he is in the stable 
yonder. And I declare that I would not part with him for the 
best palfrey in the island of Britain. 

" Now, of a truth, Kay, no man ever before confessed to an 
adventure so much to his own discredit ; and verily it seems 
strange to me that neither before nor since have I heard of any 
person who knew of this adventure, and that the subject of it 
should exist within King Arthur's dominions without any other 
person lighting upon it " 



<>^ ^ \ L 




CHAPTER XXI. 



THE LADY OF THE FOUNTAIN, CONTINUED. 



Owain's Adventure.* 

NOW," quoth Owain, " would it not be well to go and en- 
deavor to discover that place?" 
" By the hand of my friend," said Kay, " often dost thou 
utter that with thy tongue which thou wouldest not make good 
with thy deeds." 

"In very truth," said Guenever, "it were better thou wert 

* Among-st all the characters of early British history none is more interesting, 
or occupies a more conspicuous place, than the hero of this tale. Urien, his 
father, was prince of Rheged, a district comprising the present Cumberland and 
part of the adjacent countrj'-. His valor, and the consideration in which he was 
held, are a frequent theme of Bardic song, and form the subject of several very 
spirited odes by Taliesin. Among the Triads there is one relating to him ; it is 
thus translated : — 

" Three Knights of Battle were in the court of Arthur : Cadwr the Earl of 
Cornwall, Launcelot du Lac, and Owain the son of Urien. And this was their 
characteristic, — that they would not retreat from battle, neither for spear, nor 
for arrow, nor for sword. And Arthur never had shame in battle the day he saw 
their faces there. And they were called the Knights of Battle." 
206 



THE LADY OF THE FOUNTAIN. 207 

hanged, Kay, than to use such uncourteous speech towards a 
man like Owain." 

"By the hand of my friend, good lady," said Kay; "thy 
praise of Owain is not greater than mine." 

With that Arthur awoke, and asked if he had not been 
sleeping a little. 

"Yes, lord," answered Owain, "thou hast slept awhile." 

" Is it time for us to go to meat ? " 

" It is, lord," said Owain. 

Then the horn for washing was sounded, and the king and 
all his household sat down to eat. And when the meal was 
ended, Owain withdrew to his lodging, and made ready his 
horse and his arms. 

On the morrow with the dawn of day he put on his armor, 
and mounted his charger, and travelled through distant lands, 
and over desert mountains. And at length he arrived at the 
valley which Kynon had described to him, and he w^as certain 
that it was the same that he sought. And journeying along 
the valley, by the side of the river, he followed its course till 
he came to the plain, and within sight of the castle. When 
he approached the castle, he saw the youths shooting with 
their bows, in the place where Kynon had seen them, and the 
yellow man, to whom the castle belonged, standing hard by. 
And no sooner had Owain saluted the yellow man, than he 
was saluted by him in return. 

And he went forward towards the castle, and there he saw 
the chamber ; and when he had entered the chamber, he beheld 
the maidens working at satin embroidery, in chains of gold. 
And their beauty and their comeliness seemed to Owain far 
greater than Kynon had represented to him. And they arose 
to wait upon Owain, as they had done to Kynon. And the 
meal which they set before him gave even more satisfaction to 
Owain than it had done to Kynon. 

About the middle of the repast the yellow man asked Owain 
the object of his journey. And Owain made it known to him, 
and said, "I am in quest of the knight who guards the foun- 
tain." Upon this the yellow man smiled, and said that he was 
as loath to point out that adventure to him as he had been to 



208 



THE MABINOGEON. 



Kynon. However, he described the whole to Owain, and 
they retired to rest. 

The next morning Owain found his horse made ready for 
him by the damsels, and he set forward and came to the glade 
where the black man was. And the stature of the black man 
seemed more wonderful to Owain than it had done to Kynon ; 
and Owain asked of him his road, and he showed it to him. 
And Owain followed the road till he came to the green tree; 
and he beheld the fountain, and the slab beside the fountain, 
and the bowl upon it. And Owain took the bowl and threw a 
bowlful of water upon the slab. And, lo ! the thunder was heard, 
and after the thunder came the shower, more violent than Ky- 
non had described, and after the shower the sky became bright. 
And immediately the birds came and settled upon the tree and 
sang. And when their song was most pleasing to Owain, he 
beheld a knight coming towards him through the valley; and 
he prepared to receive him, and encountered liim violently. 
Having broken both their lances, they drew their swords and 
fought blade to blade. Then Owain struck the knight a blow 
through his helmet, head-piece, and visor, and tlirough the 
skin, and the flesh, and the bone, until it wounded the very 
brain. Then the black kni<>-lit felt that he had received a 
mortal wound, upon which he turned liis horse's head and fled. 
And Owain pursued him, and followed close upon him, al- 
thougli he was not near enough to strike him with his sword. 
Then Owain descried a vast and resplendent castle ; and they 
came to the castle gate. And the black knight was allowed to 
enter, and the portcullis was let fall upon Owain ; and it struck 
his horse behind the saddle, and cut him in two, and carried 
away the rowels of the spurs that were upon O wain's heels. 
And the portcullis descended to the floor. And the rowels of 
the spurs and part of the horse were without, and Owain 
with the other part of the horse remained between the two 
gates, and the inner gate was closed, so that Owain could not 
go thence ; and Owain was in a perplexing situation. And 
while he was in this state, he could see through an aperture in 
the gate a street facing him, with a row of houses on each 
side. And he beheld a maiden, with yellow, curling hair, and 



THE LADY OF THE FOUNTAIN. 209 

a frontlet of gold upon her head ; and she was clad in a dress 
of yellow satin, and on her feet were shoes of variegated 
leather. And she approached the gate, and desired that it 
should be opened. "Heaven knows, lady," said Owain, "it is 
no more possible for me to open to thee from hence, than it is 
for thee to set me free." And he told her his name, and who 
he was. " Trnly," said the damsel, " it is very sad that thou 
canst not be released ; and every woman ought to succor thee, 
for I know there is no one more faithful in the service of ladies 
than thou. Therefore," quoth she, " whatever is in my joower 
to do for thy release, I will do it. Take this ring, and put it 
on thy finger, with the stone inside thy hand, and close thy 
hand upon the stone. And as long as thou concealest it, it 
will conceal thee. When they come forth to fetch thee, they 
will be much grieved that they cannot find thee. And I will 
await thee on the horseblock yonder, and thou wilt be able to 
see me, though I cannot see thee. Therefore come and place 
thy hand upon my shoulder, that I may know that thou art 
near me. And by the way that I go hence, do thou accom- 
pany me." 

Then the maiden went away from Owain, and he did all that 
she had told him. And the people of the castle came to seek 
Owain to put him to death ; and when they found nothing but 
the half of his horse, they were sorely grieved. 

And Owain vanished from among them, and went to the 
maiden, and placed his hand upon her shoulder; whereupon 
she set off, and Owain followed her, until they came to the 
door of a large and beautiful chamber, and the maiden opened 
it, and they went in. And Owain looked around the chamber, 
and behold there was not a single nail in it that was not painted 
with gorgeous colors, and there was not a single panel that had 
not sundry images in gold portrayed upon it. 

The maiden kindled a fire, and took water in a silver bowl, 
and gave Owain water to wash. Then she placed before him 
a silvei" table, inlaid with gold ; upon which was a cloth of yel- 
low linen, and she brought him food. And, of a truth, Owain 
never saw any kind of meat that was not there in abundance, 
but it was better cooked there than he had ever found it in 



210 THE MABINOGEON. 

any other place. And there was not one vessel from which he 
was served that was not of gold or of silver. And Owain eat 
and drank until late in the afternoon, when, lo ! they heard a 
mighty clamor in the castle, and Owain asked the maiden what 
it was. " They are administering extreme unction," said she, 
•" to the nobleman who owns the castle." And she prepared a 
couch for Owain which was meet for Arthur himself, and Owain 
went to sleep. 

And a little after daybreak he heard an exceeding loud clamor 
and wailing, and he asked the maiden what was the cause of 
it. "They are bearing to the church the body of the noble- 
man who owned the castle." 

And Owain rose up, and clothed himself, and opened a win- 
dow of the chamber, and looked towards the castle ; and he 
could see neither the bounds nor the extent of the hosts that 
filled the streets. And they were fully armed ; and a vast 
number of women were with them, both on horseback and on 
foot, and all the ecclesiastics in the city singing. In the midst 
of the throng he beheld tlie bier, over which was a veil of white 
linen ; and wax tapers were burning beside and around it ; and 
none that supported the bier was lower in rank than a power- 
ful baron. 

Never did Owain see an assemblage so gorgeous with silk* 
and satin. And, following the train, he beheld a lady with 
yellow hair falling over her shoulders, and stained with blood ; 
and about her a dress of yellow satin, which was torn. Upon 
her feet were shoes of variegated leather. And it was a mar- 
vel that the ends of her fingers were not bruised from the vio- 
lence with which she smote her hands together. Truly she 
would have been the fairest lady Owain ever saw had she been 

* Before the sixth century all the silk used by Europeans had been brought to 
them by the Seres, the ancestors of the present Boukharians, whence it derived 
its Latin name of Serica. In 551 the silkworm was brought by two monks to 
Constantinople; but the manufacture of silk was confined to the Greek empire till 
the year 1130, when Roger, king of Sicily, returning from a crusade, collected some 
manufacturers from Athens and Corinth, and established them at Palermo, whence 
the trade was gradually disseminated over Italy. The varieties of silk stuffs 
known at this time were velvet, satin (which Avas called samite) , and taifety (called 
cendal or sendall), all of which were occasionally stitched with gold and silver. 



THE LADY OF THE FOUNTAIN. 211 

in her usual guise. And her cry was louder than the shout of 
the men or the clamor of the trumpets. No sooner had he be- 
held the lady than he became inflamed with her love, so that it 
took entire possession of him. 

Tlien he inquired of the maiden who the lady was. " Heaven 
knows," replied the maiden, " she is the fairest, and the most 
chaste, and the most liberal, and the most noble of women. 
She is my mistress, and she is called the Countess of the Foun- 
tain, the wife of him whom thou didst slay yesterday." " Veri- 
ly," said Owain, " she is the woman that I love best." " Verily," 
sid athe maiden, "she shall also love thee, not a little. 

Then the maiden prepared a repast for Owain, and truly he 
thought he had never before so good a meal, nor was he ever 
so well served. Then she left him, and went towards the cas- 
tle. When she came there she found nothing but mourning 
and sorrow ; and the Countess in her chamber could not bear the 
sight of any one through grief. Luned, for that was the name 
of the maiden, saluted her, but the Countess answered her not. 
And the maiden bent down towards her, and said, " What ail- 
eth thee that thou answerest no one to-day?" "Luned," said 
the Countess, " what change hath befallen thee that thou hast 
not come to visit me in my grief ? It was wrong in thee, and I 
so sorely afflicted." "Truly," said Luned, "I thought thy 
good sense was greater than I find it to be. Is it well for thee 
to mourn after that good man, or for anything else that thou 
canst not have ? " "I declare to Heaven," said the Countess, 
"that in the whole world there is not a man equal to him," 
" Not so," said Luned, " for an ugly man would be as good as, 
or better than he." "I declare to Heaven," said the Countess, 
" that were it not repugnant to me to put to death one w^honi 
I have brought up I would have thee executed for making such 
a comparison to me. As it is, I will banisli thee." "I am 
glad," said Luned, " that thou hast no other cause to do so than 
that I would have been of service to thee, where thou didst 
not know what was to thine advantage. Henceforth evil be- 
tide whichever of us shall make the first advance towards 
reconciliation to the other, whether I should seek an invita- 
tion from thee, or thou of thine own accord shouldst send to 
invite me." 



212 THE MABINOGEON. 

With that Limed went forth ; and the Countess arose and 
followed lier to the door of the chamber, and began coughmg 
loudly. And when Luned looked back the Countess beckoned 
to her, and she returned to the Countess. " In truth," said the 
Countess, " evil is thy disposition ; but if thou knowest what 
is to my advantage, declare it to me." "I will do so," said 
she. 

"Thou knowest that, except by warfare and arms, it is im- 
possible for thee to preserve thy possessions ; delay not, there- 
fore, to seek some one who can defend them." "And how can 
I do that?" said the Countess. " I will tell thee," said Luned ; 
" unless thou canst defend the fountain thou canst not main- 
tain thy dominions ; and no one can defend the fountain ex- 
cept it be a knight of Arthur's household. I will go to Ar- 
thur's court, and ill betide me if I return not thence with a 
warrior who can guard the fountain as well as, or even better, 
than he who defended it formerly." " That will be hard to 
perform," said the Countess. "Go, however, and make proof 
of that which thou hast promised." 

Luned set out under the pretence of going to Arthur's court; 
but she went back to the mansion where she had left Owain, 
and she tarried there as long as it might have taken her to 
travel to the court of King Arthur and back. And at the end 
of that time she aj^parelled herself, and went to visit the 
Countess. And the Countess was much rejoiced when she 
saw her, and inquired what news she brought from the court. 
"I bring thee the best of news," said Luned, "for I have 
compassed the object of my mission. When wilt thou that I 
should present to thee the chieftain who lias come with me 
thither?" "Bring him here to visit me to-morrow," said the 
Countess, " and I will cause the town to be assembled by that 
time." 

And Luned returned home. And the next day, at noon, 
Owain arrayed himself in a coat and a surcoat, and a mantle 
of yellow satin, upon which was a broad band of gold lace ; and 
on his feet were high shoes of variegated leather, which were 
fastened by golden clasps, in the form of lions. And they 
jDroceeded to the chamber of the Countess. 



THE LADY OF THE FOUXTAIN. 213 

Right glad was the Countess of their comiDg. And she 
gazed steadfastly upon Owain, and said, "Lnned, tliis knight 
has not the look of a traveller." " What harm is there in that, 
lady?" said Luned. "I am certain," said the Countess, "that 
no other man than this chased the soul from the body of my 
lord." " So much the better for thee, lady," said Luned, " for 
had he not been stronger than thy lord, lie could not have 
deprived him of life. There is no remedy for that which is 
past, be it as it may." " Go back to thine abode," said the 
Countess, "and I will take counsel." 

The next day the Countess caused all her subjects to as- 
semble, and showed them that her earldom was left defence- 
less, and that it could not be protected but with horse and 
arms, and military skill. " Therefore," said she, " this is what 
I offer for your choice : either let one of you take me, or give 
your consent for me to take a husband from elsewhere, to 
defend ray dominions." 

So they came to the determination that it was better that she 
should have permission to .marry some one from elsewhere; 
and thereupon she sent for the bishops and archbishops, to 
celebrate her nuptials with Owain. And the men of the earl- 
dom did Owain homage. 

And Owain defended the fountain with lance and sv^^ord. 
And this is the manner in which he defended it. Whensoever 
a knight came there, he overthrew him, and sold him for his 
full worth. And what he thus gained he divided among his 
barons and his knights, and no man in the whole Avorlcl could 
be more beloved than he was by his subjects. And it was thus 
for the space of three years.* 

* There exists an ancient poem, printed among those of Taliesin, called the 
Elegrr of Owain ap Urien, and coutaiuiug several very beautiful and spirited 
passages. It commences : 

" The soul of Owain ap Urien, 
May its Lord consider its exigencies ! 
Eeged's chief the green turf covers." 

In the course of this Elegy, the bard, alluding to the incessant warfare with 
which this chieftain harassed his Saxon foes, exclaims : 

" Could England sleep with the light upon her eyes ! " 




CHAPTER XXII. 



THE LADY OF THE FOUXTAIN, CONTINUED. 



Ga wain's Adventure. 

IT befell that, as Gawain Avent forth one clay with King 
Arthur, he perceived him to be very sad and sorrowful. 
And Gawain was much grieved to see Arthur in this state, and 
he questioned him, saying, "O my lord, what has befallen 
thee?" "In sooth, Gawain," said Arthur, "I am grieved 
concerning Owain, whom I have lost these three years; and I 
shall certainly die if the fourth year pass without my seeing 
him. Xow I am sure that it is through the tale which Kynon, 
the son of Clydno, related, that I have lost Owain." "There 
is' no need for thee," said Gawain, "to summon to arms thy 
whole dominions on this account, for thou thyself, and the 
men of thy household, will be able to avenge Owain if he be 
slain, or to set him free if he be in prison ; and, if alive, to 
bring him back wdth thee." And it Avas settled according to 
what Gawain had said. 
214 



THE LADY OF THE FOUNTAIN. 215 

Then Arthur and the men of his household prepared to go 
and seek Owain. And Kynon, the son of Clydno, acted as 
then- guide. And Arthur came to the castle where Kynon 
had been before. And when he came there, the youths were 
shooting in the same place, and the yellow man was standing 
hard by. When the yellow man saw Arthur, he greeted him, 
and invited him to the castle. And Arthur accepted his 
invitation, and they entered the castle together. And great 
as was the number of his retinue, their presence was scarcely 
observed in the castle, so vast was its extent. And the maidens 
rose up to wait on them. And the service of the maidens 
appeared to them all to excel any attendance they had ever 
met with ; and even the pages, who had charge of the horses, 
were no worse served that night than Arthur himself would 
have been in his own palace. 

The next morning Arthur set out thence, with Kynon for 
his guide, and came to the place where the black man was. 
And the stature of the black man was more surprising to Ar- 
thur than it had been represented to him. And they came to 
the top of the wooded steep, and traversed the valley, till they 
reached the green tree, where they saw the fountain and the 
bowl and the slab. And upon that Kay came to Arthur, and 
spoke to him. " My lord," said he, " I know the meaning of 
all this, and my request is that thou wilt permit me to throw 
the water on the slab, and to receive the first adventure that 
may befall." And Arthur gave him leave. 

Then Kay threw a bowlful of water upon the slab, and im- 
mediately there came the thunder, and after the thunder the 
shower. And such a thunder-storm they had never known 
before. After the shower had ceased, the sky became clear, 
and on looking at the tree, they beheld it completely leafless. 
Then the birds descended upon the tree. And the song of 
the birds was far sweeter than any strain they had ever heard 
before. Then they beheld a knight, on a coal-black horse, 
clothed in black satin, coming rapidly towards them. And 
Kay met him and encountered him, and it was not long before 
Kay was overthrown. And the knight withdrew. And Ar- 
thur and his host encamped for the night. 



216 . THE MABINOGEOX. 

And when they arose in the morning, they perceived the 
signal of combat uj^on the lance of the knight. Then, one by 
one, all the household of Arthur went forth to combat the 
knight, until there was not one that was not overthrown by 
him, except Arthur and Gawain. And Arthur armed himself 
to encounter the knight. "O my lord," said Gawain, "permit 
me to fight with him first." And Arthur permitted ^ him. 
And he went forth to meet the knight, having over himself 
and his horse a satin robe of honor, which had been sent him 
by the daughter of the Earl of Rhangyr, and in this dress he 
was not known by any of the host. And they charged each 
other, and fought all that day until the evening. And neither 
of them was able to unhorse the other. And so it was the 
next day; they broke their lances in the shock, but neither of 
them could obtain the mastery. 

And the third day they fought with exceeding strong lances. 
And they were incensed with rage, and fought furiously, even 
until noon. And they gave each other such a shock, that the 
girths of their horses were broken, so tliat they fell over their 
horses' cruppers to the ground. And they rose up speedily 
and drew their swords, and resumed the combat. And all 
they that witnessed their encounter felt assured that they had 
never before seen two men so valiant or so powerful. And 
had it been midnight, it would have been light, from the fire 
that flashed from their weapons. And the knight gave Ga- 
wain a blow that turned his helmet from off his face, so that 
the knight saw that it was Gawain. Then Owain said, "My 
lord Gawain, I did not know thee for my cousin, owing to the 
robe of honor that enveloped thee; take my sword and ray 
arms." Said Gawain, "Thou, Owain, art the victor; take 
thou my sword." And with that Arthur saw that they were 
conversing, and advanced toward them. " My lord Arthur," 
said Gawain, "here is Owain, who has vanquished me, and 
will not take my arms." "My lord," said Owain, "it is he 
that has vanquished me, and he will not take my sword." 
"Give me your swords," said Arthur, "and then neither of 
you has vanquished the other." Then Owain put his arms 
round Arthur's neck, and they embraced. And all the host 



THE LADY OF THE FOUXTAIJ^. 217 

hurried forward, to see Owain, and to embrace him. And 
there was nigh being a loss of life, so great was the press. 

And they retired that night, and the next day Arthur prepared 
to depart. "My lord," said Owain, "this is not well of thee. 
For I have been absent from thee these three years, and during 
all that time, up to this very day, I have been 2:>reparing a 
banquet for thee, knowing that thou wouldst come to seek me. 
Tarry with me, therefore, until thou and thy attendants have 
recovered the fatigues of the journey, and have been anointed." 

And they all proceeded to the castle of the Countess of the 
Fountain, and the banquet which had been three years pre- 
paring was consumed in three mouths. Never had they a 
more delicious or agreeable banquet. And Arthur prepared to 
depart. Then he sent an embassy to the Countess to beseech 
her to permit Owain to go with him for the space of three 
months, that he might show him to the nobles and the fair 
dames of the island of Britain. And the Countess gave her 
consent, although it was very painful to her. So Owain came 
with Arthur to the island of Britain. And when he was once 
more amongst his kindred and friends, he remained three 
years, instead of three months, with them. 

The Advextuee of the Liox. 

And as Owain one day sat at meat, in the city of Caerleon 
upon Usk, behold a damsel entered the hall, upon a bay horse,* 

* The custom of riding into a hall while the lord and his guests sat at meat 
might be illustrated by numerous passages of ancient romance and history. But a 
quotation from Chaucer's beaixtiful and half-told tale of Cambuscan is sufficient ; 
"And so befell that after the thridde cours, 

While that this king sat thus in his nobley, 

Herking his minstralles thir thinges play, , 

Beforne him at his bord deliciously, 

In at the halle door all sodeuly 

Ther came a knight xipon a stede of bras, 

And in his bond a brod mirrour of glas, 

Upon his thombe he had of gold a ring, 

And by his side a naked sword hanging ; 

And up he rideth to the highe bord. 

In all the halle ne was ther spoke a word, 

For meiwaille of this knight ; him to behold 

Full besily they waiten, young and old." 



218 THE MABINOGEON. 

with a curling mane, and covered with foam; and the bridle, 
and as much as was seen of the saddle, were of gold. And 
the damsel was arrayed in a dress of yellow satin. And she 
came up to Owain, and took the ring from off his hand. 
" Thus," said she, " shall be treated the deceiver, the traitor, 
the faithless, the disgraced, and the beardless." And she 
turned her horse's head, and departed. 

Then his adventure came to Owain's remembrance, and he 
was sorrowful. And having finished eating, he went to his 
own abode, and made preparations that night. And the next 
day he arose, but did not go to the court, nor did he return to 
the Countess of the Fountain, but wandered to the distant 
parts of the earth and to uncultivated mountains. And he 
remained there until all his apparel was worn out and his body 
was wasted away, and his hair was grown long. And he went 
about with the wild beasts, and fed with them, until they be- 
came familiar Avith him. But at length he became so weak that 
he could no longer bear them company. Then he descended 
from the mountains to the valley, and came to a park, tliat was 
the fairest in the world, and belonged to a charitable lady. 

One day the lady and her attendants Avent forth to walk 
by a lake that was in tlie middle of the park. And they saw 
the form of a man lying as if dead. And they were terrified. 
Nevertheless they went near him, and touched him, and they 
saw that there was life in him. And the lady returned to the 
castle, and took a flask full of precious ointment and gave it to 
one of her maidens. " Go with this," said she, " and take with 
thee yonder horse, and clothing, and place them near the man 
we saw just now ; and anoint him with this balsam near his 
heart; and if there is life in liim he will revive, through the 
efticiency of this balsam. Tlien watch what he will do." 

And the maiden departed from her, and went and poured 
of the balsam upon Owain, and left the horse and the garments 
hard by, and went a little way off and hid herself to w^atch 
him. In a short time she saw him begin to move ; and he rose 
up and looked at his person, and became ashamed of the un- 
seemliness of his appearance. Then he perceived the horse and 
the garments that w^ere near him. And he clothed himself, and 



THE LADY OF THE FOUXTAIX. 219 

with difficulty mounted the horse. Then the damsel discov- 
ered herself to him, and saluted him. And he and the maiden 
proceeded to the castle, and the maiden conducted him to a 
pleasant chamber, and kindled a fire, and left him. 

And he stayed at the castle three months, till he was restored 
to his former guise, and became even more comely than he had 
ever been before. And Owain rendered signal service to the 
lady in a controversy with a powerful neighbor, so that he 
made ample requital to her for her hospitality ; and he took 
his departure. 

And as he journeyed he heard a loud yelling in a wood. 
And it was repeated a second and a third time. And Owain 
went towards the sjDot, and beheld a huge craggy mound, in 
the middle of the wood, on the side of which was a gray rock. 
And there was a cleft in the rock, and a serpent was within the 
cleft. And near the rock stood a black lion, and every time 
the lion sought to go thence the serpent darted towards him 
to attack him. And Owain unsheathed his sword, and drew 
near to the rock ; and as the serpent sprung out he struck him 
with his sword and cut him in two. And he dried his sword, 
and went on his way as before. But behold the lion followed 
him, and played about him, as though it had been a greyhound 
that he had reared. 

They proceeded thus throughout the day, until tlie evening. 
And when it was time for Owain to take his rest he dismounted, 
and turned his horse loose in a flat and wooded meadow. And 
he struck fire, and when the fire was kindled the lion brought 
him fuel enough to last for three nights. And the lion disap- 
peared. And presently the lion returned, bearing a fine large 
roebuck. And he threw it down before Owain, who went to- 
wards the fire with it. 

And Owain took the roebuck and skinned it, and placed col- 
lops of its flesh upon skewers round the fire. The rest of the 
buck he gave to the lion to devour. T^liile he was so employed 
he heard a deep groan near him, and a second, and a third. 
And the place whence the groans proceeded was a cave in the 
rock ; and Owain went near, and called out to know who it 
was that groaned so piteously. And a voice answered, "I am 



220 THE MABINOGEON. 

Liined, the handmaiden of the Countess of the Fountain." 
"And what dost thou here?" said he. "I am imprisoned," 
said she, " on account of the knight who came from Arthur's 
court and married the Countess. And he staid a short time 
with her, but he afterwards departed for the court of Arthur, 
and has not returned since. And two of the Countess's pages 
traduced him, and called him a deceiver. And because I said 
I would vouch for it he would come before long and maintain 
his cause against both of them they imprisoned me in this 
cave, and said that I should be put to death unless he came to 
deliver me by a certain day ; and that is no further off than to- 
morrow, and I have no one to send to seek him for me. His 
name is Owain, the son of Urien." "And art thou certain that 
if that knight knew all this he would come to thy rescue ? " "I 
am most certain of it," said she. 

When the collops were cooked, Owain divided them into two 
parts, between himself and the maiden, and then Owain laid 
himself down to sleep; and never did sentinel keep stricter 
watch over his lord than the lion that night over Owain. 

And the next day there came two pages with a great troop 
of attendants to take Luned from her cell, and put her to death. 
And Owain asked them what charge they had against her. 
And they told him of the compact that was between them ; 
as the maiden had done the night before. " And," said they, 
" Owain has failed her, therefore we are taking her to be burnt." 
"Truly," said Owain, "he is a good knight, and if he knew 
that the maiden was in such peril, I marvel that he came not to 
her rescue. But if you will accept me in his stead, I will do 
battle with you." " We will," said the youths. 

And they attacked Owain, and he was hard beset by them. 
And with that, the lion came to Owain's assistance, and they 
two got the better of the young men. And they said to him, 
" Chieftain, it was not agreed that we should fight save wdth 
thyself alone, and it is harder for us to contend with yonder 
animal than with thee." And Owain put the lion in the place 
where Luned had been imprisoned, and blocked up the door 
with stones. And he went to fight with the young men as be- 
fore. But Owain had not his usual strength, and the two 



THE LADY OF THE FOUNTAIN. 221 

youths pressed bard upon him. And the lion roared inces- 
santly at seeing Owain in trouble. And he burst through the 
wall, until he found his way out, and rushed upon the young 
men and instantly slew them. So Luned was saved from being 
burned. 

Then Owain returned with Luned to the castle of the Lady 
of the Fountain. And when he went thence, he took the 
Countess with him to Arthur's court, and she was his wife as 
lono' as she lived. 




CHAPTER XXIII. 



GERAIXT, THE SOX OF ERBIX. 



ARTHUR was accustomed to hold his court at Caerleon 
upon Usk. And there he held it seven Easters and five 
Christmases. And once uj^on a time he held his court there at 
AVhitsuntide. For Caerleon was the place most easy of access 
in his dominions, both by sea and by land. And there were as- 
sembled nine crowned kings, who were his tributaries, and like- 
wise earls and barons. For they were his invited guests at all 
the high festivals, unless they were prevented by any great 
hinderance. And when he was at Caerleon holding his court, 
thirteen churches were set apart for mass. And thus they were 
appointed: one church for Arthur and his kings, and his 
guests; and the second for Guenever and her ladies; and the 
third for the steward of the household and tlie suitors ; and the 
fourth for the Franks and the other officers ; and the other 
nine churches were for the nine masters of the household, and 
chiefly for Gawain, for he, from the eminence of his warlike 
fame, and from the nobleness of his birth, was the most exalted 
222 



GERAINT, THE SOX OF ERBIN. 223 

of the nine. And there was no other arrangement resjDecting 
the churches than that whicli we have here mentioned. 

And on Whit-Tuesday, as the king sat at the banquet, lo, 
there entered a tall, fair-headed youth, clad in a coat and sur- 
coat of satin, and a golden-hilted sword about his neck, and 
low shoes of leather upon his feet. And he came and stood 
before Arthur. " Hail to thee, lord," said he. " Heaven pros- 
per thee," he answered, " and be thou welcome." " Dost thou 
■bring any new tidings ? " "I do, lord," he said. "I am one 
of thy foresters, lord, in the forest of Dean, and my name is 
Madoc, son of Turgadarn. In the forest I saw a stag, the like 
of which beheld I never yet." " What is there about him," 
asked Arthur, "that thou never yet didst see his like ?" "He 
is of pure white, lord, and he does not herd with any other 
animal, through stateliness and j^i'ide, so royal is his bearing. 
And I come to seek thy counsel, lord, and to know thy will 
concerning him." " It seems best to me," said Artliur, " to go 
and hunt him to-morrow at break of day, and to cause general 
notice thereof to be given to-night, in all quarters of the court." 
And Arryfuerys was Arthur's chief huntsman, and Arelivri 
his chief page. And all received notice ; and thus it was ar- 
ranged. 

Then Guenever said to Arthur, " Wilt thou permit me, lord, 
to go to-morrow to see and hear the hunt of the stag of which 
the young man spoke?" "I will gladly," said Arthur. And 
Gawain said to Arthur, " Lord, if it seem well to thee, permit 
that into whose hunt soever the stag shall come, that one, be 
he a knight or one on foot, may cut off his head, and give it to 
whom he pleases, whether to his own lady-love, or to the lady 
of his friend." " I grant it gladly," said Arthur, " and let the 
steward of the household be chastised, if all things are not 
ready to-morrow for the chase." 

And they passed the night with songs and diversions and 
discourse, and ample entertainment. And when it was time 
for them all to go to sleep, they went. And when the next 
day came, they arose. And Arthur called the attendants who 
guarded his couch. And there were four pages whose names 
were Cadyrnerth, the son of Gandwy, and Ambreu, the son of 



224 THE MABINOGEOJ^. 

Beclwor, and Amhar, the son of Arthur, and Goreu, the son of 
Ciistennin. And these men came to Arthur and saluted him, 
and arrayed him in his garments. And Arthur wondered that 
Guenever did not awake, and the attendants wished to awaken 
her. '''Disturb her not," said Arthur, "for she had rather 
sleep than go to see the hunting." 

Then Arthur went forth, and he heard two horns soundino-, 
one from near the lodging of the chief huntsman, and the 
other from near that of the chief page. And the whole 
assembly of the multitudes came to Arthur, and they took 
the road to the forest. 

And after Arthur had gone forth from the palace, Guenever 
awoke, and called to her maidens, and apparelled herself. 
"Maidens," said she, "I had leave last night to go and see 
the hunt. Go one of you to the stable, and order hither a 
horse such as a woman may ride." And one of them went, 
and she found but two horses in the stable ; and Guenever and 
one of her maidens mounted them, and went through the Usk, 
and followed the track of the men and the horses. And as 
they rode thus, they heard a loud and rusliing sound ; and they 
looked behind them, and beheld a knight upon a hunter foal of 
mighty size. And the rider was a fair-haired youth, bare- 
legged, and of princely mien ; and a golden-hilted sword was 
at his side, and a robe and a surcoat of satin were upon him, 
and two low shoes of leather were upon his feet ; and around 
liim was a scarf of blue purple, at each corner of which was a 
golden apple. And his horse stepped stately and swift and 
proud ; and he overtook Guenever, and saluted her. " Heaven 
prosper thee, Geraint," said she ; " and why didst thou not go 
with thy lord to hunt?" "Because I knew not when he 
went," said he. " T marvel too," said she, " how he could go, 
unknown to me. But thou, O young man, art the most 
agreeable companion I could have in the whole kingdom ; and 
it may be I shall be more amused with the hunting than they ; 
for we shall hear the horns when they sound, and we shall hear 
the dogs when they are let loose and begin to cry." 

So they went to the edge of the forest, and there they stood. 
" From this place," said she, " we shall hear when the dogs are 



GERAINT, THE SON OF ERBIN. 225 

let loose." And thereupon they heard a loud noise ; and they 
looked towards the spot whence it came, and they beheld a 
dwarf riding upon a horse, stately and foaming and prancing 
and strong and spirited. And in the hand of the dwarf w^as a 
whip. And near the dwarf they saw a lady upon a beautiful 
white horse, of steady and stately pace ; and she was clothed 
in a garment of gold brocade. And near her was a knight upon 
a war-horse of large size, with heavy and bright armor both 
upon himself and upon his horse. And truly they never before 
saw a knight, or a horse, or armor, of such remarkable size. 

"Geraint," said Guenever, "knowest thou the name of that 
tall knight yonder ? " "I know him not," said he, " and the 
strange armor that he wears prevents my either seeing his face 
or his features." "Go, maiden," said Guenever, "and ask the 
dwarf who that knight is." Then the maiden went up to the 
dwarf; and she inquired of the dwarf who the knight was. 
"I will not tell thee," he answered. "Since thou art so 
churlish," said she, "I will ask him, myself." "Thou shalt 
not ask him, by my faith," said he. "Wherefore not?" said 
she. " Because thou art not of honor sufficient to befit thee to 
speak to my lord." Then the maiden turned her horse's head 
towards the knight, upon which the dwarf struck her with the 
w^iip that was in his hand across the face and the eyes, so that 
the blood flowed forth. And the maiden returned to Guenever, 
complaining of the hurt she had received. "Very rudely has 
the dwarf treated thee," said Geraint, and he put his hand upon 
the hilt of his sword. But he took counsel Avith himself, and 
considered that it would be no vengeance for him to slay the 
dwarf, and to be attacked unarmed by the armed knight ; so 
he refrained. 

"Lady," said he, "I will follow him, with thy permission, 
and at last he will come to some inhabited place, where I may 
have arms, either as a loan or for a pledge, so that I may 
encounter the knight." " Go," said she, " and do not attack 
him until thou hast good arms ; and I shall be very anxious 
concerning thee, until I hear tidings of thee." " If I am alive," 
said he, " thou shalt hear tidings of me by to-morrow after- 
noon ; " and with that he departed. 



226 THE MABINOGEON. 

And the road they took was below the palace of Caerleon, 
and across the ford of the Usk ; and they went along a fair 
and even and lofty ridge of ground, until they came to a town, 
and at the extremity of the town they saw a fortress and a 
castle. And as the knight passed through the town, all the 
people arose and saluted him, and bade him w^elcome. And 
when Geraint came into the town, he looked at every house to 
see if he knew any of those whom he saw. But he knew 
none, and none knew him, to do him the kindness to let him 
have arms, either as a loan or for a pledge. And every house 
he saw was full of men and arms and horses. And they were 
polishing shields, and burnishing swords, and washing armor, 
and shoeing horses. And the knight and the lady and the 
dwarf rode up to the castle, that was in the town, and every 
one was glad in the castle. And from the battlements and the 
gates they risked their necks, through their eagerness to greet 
them, and to show their joy. 

Geraint stood there to see whether tlie knight would remain 
in the castle ; and when he was certain that he would do so, he 
looked around him. And at a little distance from the town he 
saw an old palace in ruins, wherein was a hall that was falling 
to decay. And as he knew not any one in the town, he went 
towards the old palace. And when he came near to the palace, 
he saw a hoary-headed man, standing by it, in tattered gar- 
ments. And Geraint gazed steadfastly upon him. Then the 
hoary-headed man said to him, " Young man, wherefore art 
thou thoughtful ? " "I am thoughtful," said he, " because I 
know not where to pass the night." " Wilt thou come forward 
this way, chieftain," said he, " and thou shalt have of the best 
that can be procured for thee." So Geraint went forward. 
And the hoary-headed man led the way into the hall. And in 
the hall he dismounted, and he left there his horse.- Then he 
went on to the upper chamber with the hoary-headed man. 
And in the chamber he beheld an old woman, sitting on a 
cushion, with old, worn-out garments upon her; yet it seemed 
to him that she must have been comely when in the bloom of 
youth. And beside her was a maiden, upon whom were a vest 
and a veil, that wei*e old, and beginning to be worn out. And 



GERAINT, THE SON OF ERBIN. 227 

truly he never saw a maiden more full of comeliness and grace 
and beauty than she. And the hoary-headed man said to the 
maiden, " There is no attendant for the horse of this youth but 
thyself." " I will render the best service I am able," said she, 
" both to him and to his horse." And the maiden disarrayed 
the youth, and then she furnished his horse with straw and 
witli corn ; and then she returned to the chamber. And the 
hoary-headed man said to the maiden, " Go to the town, and 
bring hither the best that thou canst find, both of food and of 
liquor." " I will gladly, lord," said she. And to the town 
went the maiden. And they conversed together while the 
maiden was at the town. And, behold, the maiden came back, 
and a youth with her, bearing on his back a costrel full of good 
purchased mead, and a quarter of a young bullock. And in 
the hands of the maiden was a quantity of white bread, and 
she had some manchet bread in her veil, and she came into the 
chamber. "I could not obtain better than this," said she, 
" nor with better should I have been trusted." " It is good 
enough," said Geraint. And they caused the meat to be boiled ; 
and when their food was ready, they sat down. And it was in 
this wise. Geraint sat between the hoary-headed man and his 
wife, and the maiden served them. And they ate and drank. 

And when they had finished eating, Geraint talked with the 
hoary-headed man, and he asked him in the first place to whom 
belonged the palace that he was in. " Truly," said he, "it was 
I that built it, and to me also belonged the city and the castle 
which thou sawest." " Alas ! " said Geraint, " how is it that 
thou hast lost them now ? " "I lost a great earldom as well as 
these," said he, " and this is how I lost them. I had a nephew, 
the son of my brother, and I took care of his possessions ; but 
he was impatient to enter upon them, so he made war upon 
me, and wrested from me not only his own, but also my 
estates, except this castle." " Good sir," said Geraint, " wilt 
thou tell me wherefore came the knight and the lady and the 
dwarf just now into the town, and what is the preparation 
which I saw, and the putting of arms in order ? " "I will do 
so," said he. " The preparations are for the game that is to be 
held to-morrow by the young earl, which will be on this wise. 



228 THE MABIXOGEOX. 

In the midst of a meadow which is here, two forks will be set 
u]), and upon the two forks a silver rod, and upon the silver 
rod a sparrow-hawk, and for the sparrow-hawk there will be a 
tournament. And to the tournament will go all the array thou 
didst see in the city, of men and of horses and of arms. And 
Avith each man will go the lady he loves best ; and no man can 
joust for the sparrow-hawk, except the lady he loves best be 
with him. And the knight that thou sawest has gained the 
sparrow-hawk these two years ; and if he gains it the third 
year, he will be called the Knight of the Sparrow-hawk from 
that time forth." " Sir," said Geraint, " what is thy counsel 
to me concerning this knight, on account of the insult which 
the maiden of Guenever received from the dwarf?" And 
Geraint told the hoary-headed man what the insult was that 
the maiden had received. " It is not easy to counsel thee, in- 
asmuch as thou hast neither dame nor maiden belonging to 
thee, for whom thou canst joust. Yet I have arms here, which 
thou couldst have, and there is my horse also, if he seem to 
thee better than thine own." " Ah, sir," said he, " Heaven 
reward thee ! But my own horse, to which I am accustomed, 
together with thine arms, will suffice me. And if, when the 
appointed time shall come to-morrow, thou wilt permit me, 
sir, to challenge for yonder maiden that is thy daughter, I will 
engage, if I escape from the tournament, to love the maiden as 
long as I live." "Gladly will I permit thee," said the hoary- 
headed man ; " and since thou dost thus resolve, it is necessary 
that thy horse and arms should be ready to-morrow at break of 
day. For then the Knight of the Sparrow-hawk will make 
proclamation, and ask the lady he loves best to take the spar- 
row-hawk; and if any deny it to her, by force will he defend 
her claim. And therefore," said the hoary-headed man, "it is 
needful for thee to be there at daybreak, and we three will be 
with thee." And thus was it settled. 

And at night they went to sleep. And before the dawn 
they arose and arrayed themselves ; and by the time that it 
was day, they were all four in the meadow. And there was 
the Knight of the Sparrow-hawk making the proclamation, 
and asking his lady-love to take the sparroAv-hawk. " Take it 



GERAIXT, THE SON OF ERBIN. 229 

not," said Ge^'aint, " for here is a maiden who is fairer, and 
more noble, and more comely, and who has a better claim to 
it than thou." Then said the knight, " If thou maintainest 
the sparrow-hawk to be due to her, come forward and do battle 
with me." And Geraint went forward to the top of the 
meadow, liaving upon himself and upon his horse armor which 
was heavy and rusty, and of uncouth shape. Then they en- 
countered each other, and they broke a set of lances; and 
they broke a second set, and a third. And when the earl and 
his company saw the Knight of the Sparrow-hawk gaining the 
mastery, there was shouting and joy and mirth amongst them ; 
and the hoary-headed man and his wife and his daughter were 
sorrowful. And the hoary-headed man served Geraint with 
•lances as often as he broke them, and the dwarf served the 
Knight of the Sparrow-hawk. Then the hoary-headed man 
said to Geraint, " O chieftain, since no other will hold with 
thee, behold, here is the lance which was in my hand on the 
day when I received the honor of knighthood, and from that 
time to this I never broke it, and it has an excellent point." 
Then Geraint took the lance, thanking tiie hoary-headed man. 
And thereupon the dwarf also brought a lance to his lord. 
" Behold, here is a lance for thee, not less good than his," said 
the dwarf. " And bethink thee that no knight ever withstood 
thee so long as this one has done." "I declare to Heaven," 
said Geraint, " that unless death takes me quickly hence, he 
shall fare never the better for thy service." And Geraint 
pricked his horse towards him from afar, and, warning him, 
he rushed upon him, and gave him a blow so severe, and furi- 
ous, and fierce, upon the face of his shield, that he cleft it in 
two, and broke his armor, and burst his girths, so that both he 
and his saddle were borne to the ground over the horse's 
crupper. And Geraint dismounted quickly. And he was 
wroth, and he drew his sword, and rushed fiercely upon him. 
Then the knight also arose, and drew his sword against Ger- 
aint. And they fought on foot with their swords until their 
arms struck sparks of fire like stars from one another ; and 
thus they continued fighting until the blood and sweat ob- 
scured the light from their eyes. At length Geraint called to 



230 THE MABINOGEON. 

him all his strength, and struck the knight upon the crown of 
his head, so that he broke all Jiis head-armor, and cut through 
all the flesh and the skin, even to the skull, until he wounded 
the bone. 

Then the knight fell upon his knees, and cast his sword from 
his hand, and besought mercy from Geraint. "Of a truth," 
said he, "I relinquish my overdaring and my pride, and crave 
thy mercy ; and unless I have time to commit myself to 
Heaven for my sins, and to talk with a priest, thy mercy will 
avail me little." " I will grant thee grace upon this condition," 
said Geraint; "that thou go to Guenever, the wife of Arthur, 
to do her satisfaction for the insult which her maiden received 
from thy dwarf. Dismount not from the time thou goest 
hence until thou comest into the presence of Guenever, to 
make her what atonement shall be adjudged at the court of 
Arthur." "This will I do gladly; and who art thou?" "I 
am Geraint, the son of Erbin ; and declare thou also who 
thou art." "I am Edeyrn, the son of Nudd." Then he threw 
himself upon his horse, and went forward to Arthur's court ; 
and the lady he loved best went before him, and the dwarf, 
with much lamentation. 

Then came the young earl and his hosts to Geraint, and 
saluted him, and bade him to his castle. "I may not go," 
said Geraint; "but where I was last night, there will I be 
to-night also." " Since thou wilt none of my inviting, thou 
shalt have abundance of all that I can command for thee ; and 
I will order ointment for thee, to recover thee from tliy fa- 
tigues, and from the weariness that is upon thee." " Heaven 
reward thee," said Geraint, " and I will go to my lodging." 
And thus went Geraint and Earl Ynywl, and his wife and his 
daughter. And when they reached the old mansion, the 
household servants and attendants of the young earl had 
arrived, and had arranged all the apartments, dressing them 
with straw and with fire; and in a short time the ointment 
was ready, and Geraint came there, and they washed his head. 
Then came the young earl, with forty honorable knights from 
among his attendants, and those who were bidden to the tour- 
nament. And Geraint came from the anointina:. And the 



GERAIXT, THE SOX OF ERBIX. 231 

earl asked him to go to the hall to eat. "Where is the Earl 
Ynwyl," said Geraint, " and his wife and his daughter ? " 
" They are in the chamber yonder," said the earl's chamber- 
lain, "arraying themselves in garments which the earl lias 
caused to be brought for them." " Let not the damsel array 
herself," said he, " except in her vest and her veil, until she 
come to the court of Arthur, to be clad by Guenever in such 
garments as she may choose." So the maiden did not array 
herself. 

Then they all entered the hall, and they washed, and sat 
down to meat. And thus were they seated. On one side of 
Geraint sat the young earl, and Earl Ynywl beyond him, and 
on the other side of Geraint was the maiden and her mother. 
And after these all sat according to their j^recedence in honor. 
And they ate. And they were served abundantly, and they 
received a profusion of divers kinds of gifts. Then they con- 
versed together. And the young earl invited Geraint to visit 
him next day. " I will not, by Heaven," said Geraint. " To 
the court of Arthur will I go with this maiden to-morrow. 
And it is enough for me, as long as Earl Ynywl is in poverty 
and trouble ; and I go chiefly to seek to add to his mainten- 
ance." " Ah, chieftain," said the young earl, "it is not by my 
fault tliat Earl Ynywl is without his possessions." " By my 
faith," said Geraint, " he shall not remain without them, unless 
death quickly takes me hence." "O chieftain," said he, "with 
regard to the disagreement between me and Ynywl, I will 
gladly abide by thy counsel, and agree to what thou mayest 
judge right between us." " I but ask thee," said Geraint, " to 
restore to him what is his, and what he should have received 
from the time he lost his possessions even until this day." 
"That will I do, gladly, for thee," answered he. "Then," 
said Geraint, "whosoever is here who owes homage to Ynywl, 
let him come forward, and perform it on the spot." And all 
the men did so; and by that treaty they abided. And his 
castle and his town, and all his possessions, were restored to 
Ynywl. And he received back all that he had lost, even to 
the smallest jewel. 

Then spoke Earl Ynywl to Geraint. " Chieftain," said he, 



232 THE MABINOGEOX. 

* behold the maiden for whom thou didst challenge at the 
tournament ; I bestow her upon thee." " She shall go with 
me," said Geraint, " to the court of Arthur, and Arthur and 
Guenever, they shall dispose of her as they will." And the 
next day they proceeded to Arthur's court. So far concerning 
Geraint. 




•N ~^. 



CHAPTER XXIV. 



GEKAINT, THE SON OF EEBIN, CONTINUED. 



NOW this is how Arthur hunted the stag. The men and 
the dogs were divided into hunting-parties, and the dogs 
were let loose upon the stag. And the last dog that was let 
loose was the favorite dog of Arthur, Cavall was his name. 
And he left all the other dogs behind him, and turned the stag. 
And at the second turn the stag came toward the hunting-party 
of Arthur. And Arthur set upon him, and before he could 
be slain by any other Arthur cut off his head. Then they 
sounded the death-horn for slaying, and they all gathered 
round. 

Then came Kadyriath to Arthur, and spoke to him. " Lord," 
said he, "behold, yonder is Guenever, and none with her save 
only one maiden." " Command Gildas, the son of Caw, and all 
the scholars of the court," said Arthur, "to attend Guenever 
to the palace." And they did so. 

Then they all set forth, holding converse together concern- 
ing the head of the stag, to whom it should be given. One 

233 



234 THE MABINOGEON. 

wished that it should be given to the lady best bel-oved by him 
and another to the lady whom he loved best. And so they 
came to the palace. And when Arthur and Guenever heard 
them disputing about the head of the stag, Guenever said to 
Arthur, •' My lord, this is my counsel concerning the stag's 
head ; let it not be given away until Geraint, the son of Erbin, 
shall return from the errand he is upon." And Guenever told 
Arthur what that errand was. " Right gladly shall it be so," said 
Arthur. And Guenever caused a watch to be set upon the 
ramparts for Geraint's coming. And after midday they beheld 
an unshapely little man upon a horse, and after him a dame or a 
damsel, also on horseback, and after her a knight of large stat- 
ure, bowled down, and hanging his head low and sorrowfully, 
and clad in broken and wortliless armor. 

And before they came near to the gate one of the watch 
went to Guenever, and told her what kind of people they saw, 
and w^hat aspect they bore. " I know not who they are," said 
he. " But I know," said Guenever ; " this is the knight Avhom 
Geraint pursued, and methinks he comes not here by his own 
free will. But Geraint has overtaken him, and avenged the 
insult to the maiden to the uttermost." And thereupon, be- 
hold, a porter came to the spot where Guenever was. " Lady," 
said he, " at the gate there is a knight, and I saw never a man 
of so pitiful an aspect to look upon as he. Miserable and broken 
is the armor that he wears, and the hue of blood is more 
conspicuous upon it than its own color." "Knowest thou his 
name?" said she. "I do," said he; "he tells me that he is 
Edevrn, the son of Nudd." Then she rejDlied, " I know him 
not." 

So Guenever went to the gate to meet him, and. he entered. 
And Guenever was sorry when she saw the condition he was 
in, even though he was accompanied by the churlish dwarf. 
Then Edeyrn saluted Guenever. " Heaven protect thee," said 
slie. " Lady," said lie, " Geraint, the son of Erbin, thy best 
and most valiant servant, greets thee." "Did he meet with 
thee?" she asked. "Yes," said he, " and it was not to my ad- 
vantage ; and that was not his fault, but mine, lady. And 
Geraint greets thee well ; and in greeting thee he compelled 



GERAIXT, THE SON OF ERBIN. 235 

me to come hither to do thy pleasure for the insult which thy 
maiden received from the dwarf." "Xow where did he over- 
take thee?" "At the j^lace where we were jousting and con- 
tending for the sparrow-hawk, in the town which is now called 
Cardiff. And it was for the avouchment of the love of the 
maiden, the daughter of Earl Ynywl, that Geraint jousted at 
the tournament. And thereupon we encountered each other, 
and he left me, lady, as thou seest." " Sir," said she, " when 
thinkest thou that Geraint will be here?" "To-morrow, lady, 
I think he will be here with the maiden." 

Then Arthur came to them. And he saluted Arthur, and 
Arthur gazed a long time upon him, and was amazed to see 
him thus. And thinking that he knew him, he inquired of 
him, "Art thou Edeyrn, the son of Xudd?" "I am, lord," 
said he, "and I have met with much trouble and received 
wounds insupi^ortable." Then he told Arthur all his adven- 
ture. "Well," said Arthur, "from what I hear it behooves 
Guenever to be merciful towards thee." "The mercy which 
thou desirest, lord," said she, " will I grant to him, since it is 
as insulting to thee that an insult should be offered to me as to 
thyself." " Thus will it be best to do," said Arthur ; " let this 
man have medical care until it be known whether he may live. 
And if he live he shall do such satisfaction as shall be judged 
best by the men of the court. And if he die too much will be 
the death of such a youth as Edeyrn for an insult to a maiden." 
" This pleases me," said Guenever. And Arthur caused Mor- 
gan Tud to be called to him. He was chief physician. " Take 
with thee Edeyrn, the son of Kudd, and cause a chamber to 
be prepared for him, and let him have the aid of medicine as 
thou wouldst do unto myself if I were wounded ; and let none 
into his chamber to molest him, but thyself and thy disciples, 
to administer to him remedies." "I will do so gladly, lord," 
said Morgan Tud. Then said the steward of the household, 
" Whither is it right, lord, to order the maiden ? " " To Guen- 
ever and her handmaidens," said he. And the steward of the 
household so ordered her. 

The next da*^ came Geraint towards the court ; and there 
was a watch set on the ramparts by Guenever, lest he should 



236 THE MABINOGEON. 

arrive unawares. And one of the watch came to Guenever. 
" Lady," said he, " methinks that I see Geraint, and a maiden 
with him. He is on horseback, but he has his walking gear 
upon him, and the maiden appears to be in white, seeming to 
be clad in a garment of linen." "Assemble all the women," 
said Guenever, "and come to meet Geraint, to welcome him 
and wish him joy." And Guenever went to meet Geraint and 
the maiden. And when Geraint came to the place where 
Guenever was he saluted her. "Heaven prosper thee," said 
she, "and welcome to thee." "Lady," said he, "I earnestly 
desired to obtain thee satisfaction, according to thy will ; and, 
behold, here is the maiden through whom thou hadst thy re- 
venge." . " Verily," said Guenever, " the welcome of Heaven 
be unto her; and it is fitting that we should receive her joy- 
fully." Then they went in and dismounted. And Geraint 
came to where Arthur was, and saluted him. " Heaven pro- 
tect thee," said Arthur, " and the Avelcome of Heaven be unto 
thee. And inasmuch as thou hast vanquished Edeyrn, the son 
of Nudd, thou hast had a jDrosperous career." " Not upon me 
be the blame," said Geraint; "it was through the arrogance of 
Edeyrn, the son of Nudd, himself, that we were not friends." 
"Now," said Arthur, "where is the maiden for whom I heard 
thou didst give challenge ? " " She is gone with Guenever to 
her chamber." Then went Arthur to see the maiden. And 
Arthur, and all his companions, and his whole court, were glad 
concerning the maiden. And certain were they all that, had her 
array been suitable to her beauty, they had never seen a maid 
fairer than she. And Arthur gave away the maiden to Geraint. 
And the usual bond made betAveen two j^ersons was made be- 
tween Geraint and the maiden, and the choicest of all Guen- 
ever's apparel was given to the maiden ; and thus arrayed, she 
appeared comely and graceful to all who beheld her. And that 
day and the night were spent in abundance of minstrelsy, and 
ample gifts of liquor, and a multitude of games. And when it 
was time for them to go to sleep they went. And in the cham- 
ber where the couch of Arthur and Guenever was the couch of 
Geraint and Enid was prepared. And from that time she be- 
came his wife. And the next day Arthur satisfied all the 



GERAINT, THE SON OF EEBIN. 237 

claimants upon Geraint with bountiful gifts. And the maiden 
took up her abode in the palace, and she had many compan- 
ions, both men and women, and there was no maiden more 
esteemed than she in the island of Britain. 

Then spake Guenever. "Rightly did I judge," said she, 
" concerning the head of the stag, that it should not be given 
to any until Geraint's return ; and behold, here is a fit occasion 
for bestowing it. Let it be given to Enid, the daughter of 
Ynywl, the most illustrious maiden. And I do not believe any 
will begrudge it her, for between her and every one there 
exists nothing but love and friendship." Much applauded 
was this by them all, and by Arthur also. And the head of 
the stag was given to Enid. And thereupon her fame in- 
creased, and her friends became more in number than before. 
And Geraint from that time forth loved the hunt, and the 
tournament, and hard encounters ; and he came victorious 
from them all. And a year, and a second, and a third, he 
proceeded thus, until his fame had flown over the face of the 
kingdom. 

And, once upon a time, Arthur was holding his court at 
Caerleon upon Usk; and behold, there came to him ambas- 
sadors, wise and prudent, full of knowledge and eloquent of 
speech, and they saluted Arthur. " Heaven prosper you !" said 
Arthur ; " and whence do you come ? " " We come, lord," 
said they, " from Cornwall, and we are ambassadors from 
Erbin, the son of Custennin, thy uncle, and our mission is unto 
thee. And he greets thee well, as an uncle should greet his 
nephew, and as a vassal should greet his lord. And he rep- 
resents unto thee that he waxes heavy and feeble, and is 
advancing in years. And the neighboring chiefs, knowing 
this, grow insolent towards him, and covet his land and 
possessions. And he earnestly beseeches thee, lord, to permit 
Geraint his son to return to him, to protect his possessions, and 
to become acquainted with his boundaries. And unto him he 
represents that it were better for him to spend the flower of 
his youth and the prime of his age in preserving his own 
boundaries, than in tournaments which are productive of no 
profit, although he obtains glory in them." 



238 THE 3IABINOGEON. 

" Well," said Arthur, " go and divest yourselves of your 
accoutrements, and take food, and refresh yourselves after 
your fatigues ; and before you go from hence you shall have an 
answer." And they went to eat. And Arthur considered 
that it would go hard with him to let Geraint depart from him, 
and from his court; neither did he think it fair that his cousin 
should be restrained from going to j^rotect his dominions and 
his boundaries, seeing that his father was unable to do so. Xo 
less was the grief and regret of Guenever, and all her women, 
and all her damsels, through fear that the maiden would leave 
them. And that day and that night was spent in abundance 
of feasting. And Arthur told Geraint the cause of the mission, 
and of the coming of the ambassadors to him out of Cornwal'l. 
" Truly," said Geraint, " be it to my advantage or disadvan- 
tage, lord, I will do according to thy will concerning this 
embassy." "Behold," said Arthur, "though it grieves me to 
part with thee, it is my counsel that thou go to dwell in thine 
own dominions, and to defend thy boundaries, and take with 
thee to accomjDany thee as many as thou wilt of those thou 
lovest best among my faithful ones, and among thy friends, 
and among thy companions in arms." " Heaven reward thee ! 
and this w^ill I do," said Geraint. " What discourse," said 
Guenever, " do I hear between you ? Is it of those who are to 
conduct Geraint to his country?" "It is," said Arthur. 
" Then it is needful for me to consider," said she, " concerning 
companions and a provision for the lady that is with me." 
" Thou wilt do well," said Arthur. 

And that night they went to sleep. And the next day the 
ambassadors were permitted to depart, and they were told that 
Geraint should follow them. And on the third day Geraint 
set forth, and many went with him, — Gawain, the son of 
Gwyar, and Riogoned, the son of the king of Ireland, and 
Ondyaw, the son of the Duke of Burgundy, Gwilim, the son of 
the ruler of the Franks, Howel, the son of the Earl of Brittany, 
Perceval, the son of Evrawk, Gwyr, a judge in the court of 
Arthur, Bedwyr, the son of Bedrawd, Kai, the son of Kyner, 
Odyar, the Frank, and Edeyrn, the son of Nudd. Said Geraint, 
" I think I shall have enouojh of knighthood with me." And 



GERAIXT, THE SOX OF ERBIX. 239 

they set forth. And never was there seen a fairer host 
journeying towards the Severn. And on the other side of the 
Severn were the nobles of Erbin, the son of Custennin, and his 
foster-father at their head, to welcome Geraint with gladness ; 
and many of the women of the court, with his mother, came 
to receive Enid, the daughter of Ynywl, his wife. And there 
was great rejoicing and gladness throughout the whole court, 
and through all the country, concerning Geraint, because of 
the greatness of their love to him, and of the greatness of the 
fame which he had gained since he went from amongst them, 
and because he was come to take possession of his dominions, 
and to preserve his boundaries. And they came to the court. 
And in the court they had ample entertainment, and a multi- 
tude of gifts, and abundance of liquor, and a sufficiency of 
service, and a variety of games. And to do honor to Geraint, 
all the chief men of the country were invited that night to 
visit him. And they passed that day and that night in the 
utmost enjoyment. And at dawn next day Erbin arose, and 
summoned to him Geraint, and the noble persons who had 
borne him company. And he said to Geraint : " I am a feeble 
and an aged man, and whilst I was able to maintain the 
dominion for thee and for myself, I did so. But thou art 
young, and in the flower of thy vigor and of thy youth. 
Henceforth do thou preserve thy possessions." " Truly," 
said Geraint, " with my consent thou shalt not give the power 
over thy dominions at this time into my hands, and thou shalt 
not take me from Arthur's court." "Into thy hands will I 
give them," said Erbin, "and this day shalt thou receive the 
homage of thy subjects." 

Then said Gawain, " It were better for thee to satisfy those 
who have boons to ask, to-day, and to-morrow thou canst 
receive the homage of thy dominions." So all that had boons 
to ask were summoned into one place. And Kadyriath came 
to them to know what were the requests. And every one 
asked that which he desired. And the followers of Arthur 
oegan to make gifts, and immediately the men of Cornwall 
bame, and gave also. And they were not long in giving, so 
eager was every one to bestow gifts. And of those who came 



240 THE MABINOGEON. 

to ask gifts, none departed unsatisfied. And that day and that 
night were spent in the utmost enjoyment. 

And the next day at dawn Erbin desired Geraint to send 
messengers to the men to ask them whether it was displeasing 
to them that he should come to receive their homage, and 
whether they had anything to object to him. Then Geraint 
sent ambassadors to the men of Cornwall to ask them this. 
And they all said that it would be the fulness of joy and honor 
to them for Geraint to come and receive their homage. So he 
received the homage of such as were there. And the day 
after, the followers of Arthur intended to go away. " It is too 
soon for you to go away yet," said he ; " stay with me until I 
have finished receiving the homage of my chief men, who have 
agreed to come to me." And they remained with him until 
he had done so. Then they set forth towards the court of 
Arthur. And Geraint went to bear them company, and Enid 
also, as far as Diganwy; there they parted. And Ondyaw, 
the son of the Duke of Burgundy, said to Geraint, " Go, now, 
and visit the uttermost parts of thy dominions, and see well to 
the boundaries of thy territories; and if thou hast any trouble 
respecting them, send unto thy companions." " Heaven reward 
thee!" said Geraint; "and this will I do." And Geraint 
journeyed to tlie uttermost parts of his dominions. And 
experienced guides, and the chief men of his country, went 
with him. And the furthermost point that they showed him 
he kept possession of. 




CHAPTER XXy. 

GERAINT, THE SON OF ERBIN, CONTINUED. 

GERAINT, as he had been used to do when he was at 
Arthur's court, frequented tournaments. And he became 
acquainted with valiant and mighty men, until he had gained as 
much fame there as he had formerly done elsewhere. And he 
enriched his court, and his companions, and his nobles^ with 
the best horses and the best arms, and with the best and most 
valuable jewels, and he ceased not until his fame had flown 
over the face of the whole kingdom. When he knew that it 
was thus, he began to love ease and pleasure, for there was no 
one who was worth his opposing. And he loved his wife, and 
liked to continue in the palace, with minstrelsy and diversions. 
So he began to shut himself up in the chamber of his wife, and 
he took no delight in anything besides, insomuch that he gave 
up the friendship of his nobles, together with his hunting and 
his amusements, and lost the hearts of all the host in his court. 
And there wns murmuring and scoffing concerning him among 
the inhabitants of the palace, on account of his relinquishing so 

241 



242 THE MABINOGEON. 

completely their companionship for the love of his wife. These 
tidings came to Erbin. And when Erbin had heard these 
things, he spoke unto Enid, and inquired of her whether it was 
she that had caused Geraint to act thus, and to forsake his 
people and his hosts. " Not I, by my confession unto heaven," 
said she; "there is nothing more hateful unto me than this." 
And she knew not what she should do, for, although it was hard 
for her to own this to Geraint, yet was it not more easy for her 
to listen to what she heard, without warning Geraint concerning 
it. And she was very sorrowful. 

One morning in the summer-time they were uj^on their couch, 
and Geraint lay upon the edge of it. And Enid was without 
sleep in the apartment, which had windows of glass ; * and the 
sun shone uj^on the couch. And the clothes had slipped from 
off his arms and his breast, and he was asleep. Then- she 
gazed upon the marvellous beauty of his appearance, and she 
said, " Alas ! and am I the cause that these arms and this breast 
have lost their glory, and the warlike fame which they once so 
richly enjoyed?" As she said this the tears dropped from her 
eyes, and they fell upon his breast. And the tears she shed, 
and the words she had spoken, awoke him. And another thing 
contributed to awaken him, and that was the idea that it was 
not in thinking of him that she spoke thus, but that it was be- 
cause she loved some other man more than him, and that she 
wished for other society. Thereupon Geraint was troubled 
in his mind, and he called his squire; and when he came to 
him, "Go quickly," said he, "and prepare my horse and ray 
arms, and make them ready. And do thou arise," said he to 
Enid, " and apparel thyself ; and cause thy horse to be accou- 
tred, and clothe thee in the worst riding-dress that thou hast 
in thy possession. And evil betide me," said he, " if thou re- 
turnest here until thou knowest whether I have lost my strength 

* The terms of admiration in which the older writers invariably speak of glass 
loindows would be sufficient proof, if other evidence were wanting', how rare an 
itrticle of luxury they Avere in the houses of our ancestors. They were first intro- 
duced in ecclesiastical architecture, to which they were for a long time confined. 
Glass is said not to have been employed in domestic architecture before the four- 
teenth century. 



GERAINT, THE SON OF ERBIN. 243 

SO completely as thou didst say. And if it be so, it will then 
be easy for thee to seek the society thou didst wish for of him 
of whom thou wast thinking." So she arose, and clothed her- 
self in her meanest garments. "I know nothing, lord," said 
she, " of thy meaning." " Neither wilt thou know at this time," 
said he. 

Then Geraint went to see Erbin. " Sir," said he, " I am 
going upon a quest, and I am not certain when I may come 
back. Take heed, therefore, unto thy possessions until my re- 
turn." " I will do so," said he ; " but it is strange to me that 
thou shouldst go so suddenly. And who will proceed with 
thee, since thou art not strong^ enou2:h to traverse the land of 
Loegyr alone ? " " But one person only will go with me." 
" Heaven counsel thee, my son," said Erbin, " and may many 
attach themselves to thee in Loegyr." Then went Geraint to 
the place where his horse was, and it was equipj^ed with foreign 
armor, heavy and shining. And he desired Enid to mount her 
horse, and to ride forward, and to keep a long way before him. 
"And whatever thou mayest see, and whatever thou mayest 
hear concerning me," said he, " do thou not turn back. And 
unless I speak unto thee, say not thou one word either." So 
they set forward. And he did not choose the pleasantest and 
most frequented road, but that which was the wildest and most 
beset by thieves and robbers and venomous animals. 

And they came to a high-road, wliich they followed till they 
saw a vast forest ; and they saw four armed horsemen come 
forth from the forest. When the armed men saw them, they 
said one to another, " Here is a good occasion for us to capture 
two horses and armor, and a lady likewise ; for this we shall 
have no difficulty in doing against yonder single knight, who 
hangs his head so pensively and heavily." Enid heard this 
discourse, and she knew not what she should do through fear 
of Geraint, who had told her to be silent. " The vengeance of 
Heaven be upon me," said she, " if I would not rather receive 
my death from his hand than from the hand of any other ; and 
though he should slay me, yet will I speak to him, lest I should 
have the misery to witness his death." So she waited for 
Geraint until he came near to her. " Lord," said she, " didst 



24:4: THE MABINOGEON. 

thou hear the words of those men concerning thee ? " Then 
he lifted up his eyes, and looked at her angrily. " Thou hadst 
only," said he, " to hold thy peace, as I bade thee. I wish bat 
for silence, and not for warning. And though thou shouldest 
desire to see my defeat and my death by the hands of those 
men, yet I do feel no dread." Then the foremost of them 
couched his lance, and rushed upon Geraint. And he received 
him, and that not feebly. But he let the thrust go by him, 
while he struck the horseman upon the centre of the shield, in 
such a manner that his shield was split, and his armor broken, 
so that a cubit's length of the shaft of Geraint's lance passed 
through his body, and sent him to the earth, the length of 
the lance over his horse's crupper. Then the second horseman 
attacked him furiously, being wroth at the death of his com- 
panion. But with one thrust Geraint overthrew him also, and 
killed him as he had done the other. Then the third set upon 
him, and he killed him in like manner. And thus also he slew 
the fourth. Sad and sorrowful was the maiden as she saw all 
this. Geraint dismounted his horse, and took the arms of the 
men he had slain, and placed them upon their saddles, and tied 
together the reins of their horses ; and he mounted his horse 
again. "Behold what thou must do," said he; "take the four 
horses, and drive them before thee, and proceed forward as I 
bade thee just now. And say not one word unto me, unless I 
speak first unto thee. And I declare unto Heaven," said he, 
" if thou doest not thus, it will be to thy cost." " I will do as 
far as I can, lord," said she, " according to thy desire." 

So the maiden went forward, keeping in advance of Geraint, 
as he had desired her ; and it grieved him as much as his wrath 
would permit to see a maiden so illustrious as she having so 
much trouble with the care of the horses. Then they reached 
a wood, and it was both deep and vast, and in the wood night 
overtook them. "Ah, maiden," said he, " it is vain to attempt 
proceeding forward." " Well, lord," said she, " Avhatever thou 
wishest we will do." " It will be best for us," he answered, 
" to rest and wait for the day in order to pursue our journey." 
" That will we, gladly," said she. And they did so. Having 
dismounted himself, he took her down from her horse. "I 



GERAINT, THE SON OF ERBIN. 245 

cannot by any means refrain from sleep through weariness," 
said he ; " do thou therefore watch the horses and sleep not." 
"I will, lord," said she. Then he went to sleep in his armor, 
and thus passed the night, which was not long at that season. 
And when she saw the dawn of day appear she looked around 
her to see if he were waking, and thereupon he awoke. Then 
he arose, and said unto her, "Take the horses and ride on, and 
keep straight on as thou didst yesterday." And they left the 
wood, and they came to an oj^en country, with meadows on 
one hand, and mowers mowing the meadows. And there was 
a river before them, and the horses bent down and drank of 
the water. And they went up out of the river by a lofty 
steep ; and there they met a slender stripling with a satchel 
about his neck, and they saw there was something in the 
satchel, but they knew not what it was. And he had a small 
blue pitcher in his hand, and a bowl on the mouth of the 
pitcher. And the youth saluted Geraint. " Heaven prosper 
thee!" said Geraint; "and whence dost thou come?" "I 
come," said he, " from the city that lies before thee. My 
lord," he added, " will it be displeasing to thee if I ask whence 
thou comest also ? " " By no means ; through yonder wood 
did I come." " Thou camest not through the wood to-day." 
"No," he replied; "we were in the wood last night." "I 
warrant," said the youth, "that thy condition there last night 
w^as not the most pleasant, and that thou hadst neither meat 
nor drink." " No, by ray faith," said he. " Wilt thou follow 
my counsel," said the youth, " and take thy meal from me ? " 
" What sort of meal?" he inquired. "The breakfast which is 
sent for yonder mowers, nothing less than bread and meat and 
wine ; and if thou wilt, sir, they shall have none of it." " I 
will," said he, " and Heaven reward thee for it." 

So Geraint alighted, and the youth took the maiden from off 
her horse. Then they washed, and took their repast. And 
the youth cut the bread in slices, and gave them drink, and 
served them withal. And when they had finished the youth 
arose and said to Geraint, "My lord, with thy permission, I 
will now go and fetch some food for the mowers." "Go first 
to the town," said Geraint, "and take a lodging for me in the 



246 THE MABINO&EON. 

best place thou knowest, and the most commodious one for the 
horses ; and take thou whichever horse and arms thou choos- 
est in payment for thy service and thy gift." " Heaven reward 
thee, lord ! " said the youth; "and this would be am23le to re- 
pay services much greater than those I have rendered unto 
thee." And to the town went the youth, and he took the best 
and most pleasant lodgings that he knew ; and after that he 
went to the palace, having the horse and armor with him, and 
proceeded to the i:)lace where the earl was, and told him all his 
adventure. " I go now, lord," said he, " to meet the knight, and 
to conduct him to his lodging." " Go, gladly," said the earl, 
" and right joyfully shall he be received here, if he so come." 
And the youth went to meet Geraint, and told him tliat he 
would be received gladly by the earl in his own palace ; but he 
would go only to his lodgings. And he had a goodly chamber, 
in which was plenty of straw and drapery, and a spacious and 
commodious place he had for the horses ; and the youth pre- 
pared for them plenty of provender. After they had dis- 
arrayed themselves, Geraint spoke thus to Enid : " Go," said 
be, "to the other side of the chamber, and come not to this 
side of the house ; and thou mayst call to thee the woman of 
the house if thou wilt." " I will do, lord," said she, " as thou 
sayest." Tliereupon the man of the house came to Geraint, 
and welcomed him. And after they had eaten and drank Ger- 
aint went to sleep, and so did Enid also. 

In the evening, behold, the earl came to visit Geraint, and 
his twelve honorable knights with him. And Geraint rose up 
and welcomed him. Then they all sat down according to their 
precedence in honor. And the earl conversed with Geraint, 
and inquired of him the object of his journey. " I have none," 
he replied, " but to seek adventures and to follow my own in- 
clination." Then the earl cast his eye upon Enid, and he looked 
at her steadfastly. And he thought he had never seen a maiden 
fairer or more comely than she. And he set all his thoughts 
and his affections upon her. Then he asked of Geraint, " Have 
I thy permission to go and converse with yonder maiden, for I 
see that she is apart from thee ? " " Thou hast it gladly," said 
he. So the earl went to the place where the maiden was, and 



GERAINT, THE SON OF ERBIN. 247 

spake with her. "Ah ! maiden," said he, " it cannot be pleas- 
ant to thee to journey with yonder man." " It is not unpleas- 
ant to me," said she. " Thou hast neither youths nor maidens 
to serve thee," said he. "Truly," she replied, "it is more 
pleasant for me to follow yonder man than to be served by 
youths and maidens." " I will give thee good counsel," said 
he ; " all my earldom will I j^lace in thy possession if thou wilt 
dwell with me." " That will I not, by Heaven," she said ; 
" yonder man was the first to whom my faith was pledged, and 
shall I prove inconstant to him?" "Thou art in the wrong," 
said the earl ; " if I slay the man yonder I can keep thee with 
me as long as I choose ; and when thou no longer pleasest me 
I can turn thee away. But if thou goest witii me by thy own 
good- will, I protest that our union shall continue as long as I 
shall remain alive." Then she pondered those words of his, 
and she considered that it was advisable to encourage him in 
his request. "Behold then, chieftain, this is most expedient 
for thee to do to save me from all reproach ; come here to- 
morrow and take me away as though I knew nothing thereof." 
" I will do so," said he. So he arose and took his leave, and 
went forth with his attendants. And she told not then to Ger- 
aint any of the conversation which she had had with the earl 
lest it should rouse his anger, and cause him uneasiness and 
care. 

And at the usual hour they went to sleep. And at the be- 
ginning of the night Enid slept a little ; and at midnight she 
arose, and placed all Geraint's armor together, so that it might 
be ready to jDut on. And though fearful of her errand, she 
came to the side of Geraint's bed ; and she spoke to him 
softly and gently, saying, " My lord, arise, and clothe thyself, 
for these were the words of the earl to me, and his intention 
concerning me." So she told Geraint all that had passed. 
And although he was wroth with her, he took warning, and 
clothed himself. And she lighted a candle that he might have 
light to do so. "Leave there the candle," said he, "and 
desire the man of the house to come here." Then she went, 
and the man of the house came to him. "Dost thou know 
how much I owe thee ?" asked Geraint. "I think thou owest 



248 THE MABINOGEON. 

but little." " Take the three horses, and the three suits of 
armor." " Heaven reward thee, Lord," said he, "but I spent 
not the value of one suit of armor upon thee." " For that 
reason," said he, " thou wilt be the richer. And now, wilt 
thou come to guide me out of the town?" "I will, gladly," 
said he; "and in which direction dost thou intend to go?" "I 
wish to leave the town by a different way from that by which 
I entered it." So the man of the lodgings accompanied him 
as far as he desired. Then he bade tlie maiden to o-o on be- 
fore him, and she did so, and went straight forward, and his 
host returned home. 

And Geraint and the maiden went forward along the high- 
road. And as they journeyed thus, they heard an exceeding 
loud wailing near to them. " Stay thou here," said he, " and 
I will go and see what is the cause of tliis wailing." " I will," 
said she. Then he went forward into an open glade that was 
near the road. And in the glade he saw two horses, one hav- 
ing a man's saddle, and the other a woman's saddle upon it. 
And behold there was a knight lying dead in his armor, and a 
young damsel in a riding-dress standing over him lamenting. 
" Ah, lady," said Geraint, " what hath befallen thee ? " " Be- 
hold," she answered, " I journeyed here with my beloved hus- 
band, when lo ! three giants came upon us, and without any 
cause in the world, they slew him." " Which way went they 
hence?" said Geraint. "Yonder by the high-road," she re- 
plied. So he returned to Enid. "Go," said he, "to the lady 
tliat is below yonder, and await me there till I come." She 
was sad when he ordered her to do thus, but nevertheless she 
went to the damsel, whom it was ruth to hear, and she felt 
certain that Geraint would never return. 

Meanwhile Geraint followed the giants, and overtook them. 
And each of them was greater in stature than three other 
men, and a huge club was on the shoulder of each. Then he 
rushed upon one of them, and thrust his lance through his 
body. And having drawn it forth again, he pierced another 
of them through likewise. But the third turned upon him, 
and struck him with his club so that he split his shield and 
crushed his snoulder. But Geraint drew his sword, and gave 



GERAINT, THE SON OF ERBIN. 249 

the giant a blow on the crown of his head, so severe, and 
fierce, and violent, that his head and his neck were split down 
to his shoulders, and he fell dead. So Geraint left him thus, 
and returned to Enid. And when he reached the place where 
she was, he fell down lifeless from his horse. Piercing and 
loud and thrilling was the cry that Enid uttered. And she 
came and stood over him where he had fallen. And at the 
sound of her cries came the Earl of Limours, and they who 
journeyed with him, whom her lamentations brought out of 
their road. And the earl said to Enid, "Alas, lady, what 
hath befallen thee?" "Ah, good sir," said she, "the only 
man I have loved, or ever shall love, is slain." Then he said 
to the other, "And what is the cause of thy grief ? " " They 
have slain my beloved husband also," said she. "And who 
was it that slew them?" "Some giants," she answered, 
"slew my best-beloved, and the other knight went in pursuit 
of them, and came back in the state thou seest." The earl 
caused the knight that was dead to be buried, but he thought 
that there still remained some life in Geraint; and to see if he 
yet would live, he had him carried w^th him in the hollow of 
his shield, and upon a bier. And the two damsels w^ent to the 
court; and when they arrived there, Geraint was placed ujoon 
a little couch in front of the table that was in the hall. Then 
they all took off their travelling-gear, and the earl besought 
Enid to do the same, and to clothe herself in other garments. 
"I will not, by Heaven," said she. "Ah, lady," said he, "be 
not so sorrowful for this matter." " It were hard to persuade 
me to be otherwise," said she. " I will act towards thee in 
such Avise that thou needest not be sorrowful, whether yonder 
knight live or die. Behold, a good earldom, together with 
myself, will I bescow upon thee ; be therefore happy and joy- 
ful." " I declare to Heaven," said she, " that henceforth I 
shall never be joyful while I live." " Come," said he, " and 
eat." " K'o, by Heaven, I will not." "But by Heaven, thou 
shalt," said he. So he took her with him to the table against 
her will, and many times desired her to eat. "I call Heaven 
to witness," said she, "that I will not eat until the man that is 
upon yonder bier shall eat likewise." "Thou canst not fulfil 



250 THE MABINOGEON. 

that," said the earl; "yonder man is dead already." "1 will 
prove that I can," said she. Then he offered her a goblet of 
liquor. " Drink this goblet," he said, " and it will cause thee 
to change thy mind." " Evil betide me," she answered, " if I 
drink aught until lie drink also." " Truly," said the earl, " it 
is of no more avail for me to be gentle with thee than un- 
gentle." And he gave her a box in the ear. Thereuj^on she 
raised a loud and jjiercing shriek, and her lamentations were 
much greater than they had been before ; for she considered 
in her mind that, had Geraint been alive, he durst not have 
struck her thus. But behold, at the sound of her cry, Geraint 
revived from his swoon, and he sat up on the bier; and find- 
ing his sword in the hollow of his shield, he ruslied to the 
place where the earl was, and struck him a fiercely-wounding, 
severely-venomous, and sternly-smiting blow upon the crown 
of his head, so that he clove him in twain, until his sword was 
staid by the table. Then all left the board and fled away. 
And this was not so much through fear of the living, as 
through the dread they felt at seeing the dead man rise up to 
slay them. And Geraint looked upon Enid, and he was 
grieved for two causes ; one was to see that Enid had lost her 
color and her wonted aspect ; and the other, to know that she 
was in the right. " Lady," said he, "knowest thou where our 
horses are ? " "I know, lord, where thy horse is," she replied, 
"but I know not where is the other. Thy horse is in the 
house yonder." So he went to the house, and brought forth 
his horse, and mounted him, and took up Enid, and j^laced her 
upon the horse with him. And he rode forward. And tlieir 
road lay between two hedges ; and the night was gaining on 
the day. And lo ! they saw behind them the sliafts of spears 
betwixt them and the sky, and they heard the tramping of 
horses, and the noise of a host approaching. " I hear some- 
thing following us," said he, " and I will put thee on the otlier 
side of the hedge." And tlius he did. And thereupon, be- 
hold, a knight pricked towards him, and couched his lance. 
When Enid saw this, she cried out, saying, " O chieftain, who- 
ever thou art, wliat renown wilt thou gain by slaying a dead 
man?" "O Heaven!" said he, "is it Geraint?" "Yes, in 



GERAINT, THE SOX OF ERBIN. 251 

truth," said she; "and who art thou?" "I am Gwiftert 
Petit," said he, " thy husband's ally, coming to thy assistance, 
for I heard that thou wast in trouble. Come with me to the 
court of a son-in-law of my sister, which is near here, and thou 
shalt have the best medical assistance in the kingdom." " I 
will do so gladly," said Geraint. And Enid was jolaced upon 
the horse of one of Gwiffert's squires, and they went forward 
to the baron's palace. And they were received there with 
gladness, and they met with hospitality and attention. The 
next morning they went to seek physicians; and it was not 
long before they came, and they attended Geraint until lie was 
perfectly w^ell. And while Geraint Avas under medical care, 
Gwiffert caused his armor to be repaired, until it was as good 
as it had ever been. And they remained there a month and a 
fortnight. Then they separated, and Geraint went towards 
his own dominions, and thenceforth he reigned prosperously, 
and his warlike fame and splendor lasted with renown and 
honor both to him and to Enid,* from that time forward. 

* Throughout the broad and varied regions of romance, it would be difficult to 
find a character of greater simplicity and truth than that of Enid, the daughter 
of Earl Ynywl. Conspicuous for her beauty and noble bearing, we are at a loss 
whether more to admire the patience Avith which she bore all the hardships she 
was destined to undergo, or the constancy and affection which finally achieved 
the triumph she so richly deserved. 

The character of Enid is admirably sustained through the whole tale ; and as 
it is more natural, because less overstrained, so perhaps it is even more touching, 
than that of Griselda, over which, however, Chaucer has thrown a charm that 
leads us to forget the improbability of her story. 




CHAPTEE XXYI. 



PWYLL, PEINCE OF DYYED. 



ONCE upon a time Pwyll was at Narberth, his chief palace, 
where a feast had been 2>i'epared for him, and with him 
was a great host of men. And after the first meal Pwyll arose 
to walk ; and he went to the top of a mound that was above 
the palace, and was called Gorsedd Arberth. " Lord," said one 
of the court, " it is peculiar to the mound that whosoever sits 
upon it cannot go thence without either receiving wounds or 
blows, or else seeing a wonder." " I fear not to receive 
wounds or blows," said Pwyll; "but as to the wonder, gladly 
would I see it. I will therefore go and sit upon the mound." 

And upon the mound he sat. And while he sat there, they 
saw a lady, on a pure white horse of large size, with a garment 
of shining gold around her, coming along the highway that led 
from the mound. " My men," said Pwyll, " is there any among 
you who knows yonder lady ? " " There is not, lord," said 
they. " Go one of you and meet her, that we may know who 
she is." And one of them arose, and as he came upon the road 
252 



PWYLL, PRINCE OF DYVED. 253 

to meet her, she passed by ; and he followed as fast as he could, 
being on foot, and the greater was his speed, the further was 
she from him. And when he saw that it profited him nothing 
to follow her, he returned to Pwyll, and said unto him, "Lord, 
it is idle for any one in the world to follow her on foot." 
" Verily," said Pwyll, "go unto the palace, and take the fleet- 
est horse that thou seest, and go after her." 

And he took a horse and went forward. And he came to an 
open, level plain, and put spurs to his horse ; and the more he 
urged his horse, the further was she from him. And he re- 
turned to the palace where Pwyll was, and said, " Lord, it will 
avail nothing for any one to follow yonder lady. I know of no 
horse in these realms swifter than this, and it availed me not 
to pursue her." "Of a truth," said Pwyll, "there must be 
some illusion here ; let us go towards the palace." So to the 
j^alace they went, and spent the day. 

And the next day they amused themselves until it was time 
to go to meat. And when meat was ended, Pwyll said, 
*' Where are the hosts that went yesterday to the top of the 
mound ? " " Behold, lord, we are here," said they. " Let us 
go," said he, " to the mound, and sit there. And do thou," 
said he to the page w^ho tended his horse, " saddle my horse 
well, and hasten with him to the road, and bring also my spurs 
with thee." And the youth did thus. And they went and sat 
upon the mound ; and ere they had been there but a short 
time, they beheld the lady coming by the same road, and in 
the same manner, and at the same pace. " Young man," said 
Pwyll, " I see the lady coming ; give me uiy horse." And before 
he had mounted his horse she passed him. And he turned after 
her and followed her. And he let his horse go bounding play- 
fully, and thought that he should soon come up with her. But he 
came no nearer to her than at first. Then he urged his horse 
to his utmost speed, yet he found that it availed not. Then 
said Pwyll, " O maiden, for the sake of him whom thou best 
lovest, stay for me." "I will stay gladly," said she; "audit 
were better for thy horse hadst thou asked it long since." So 
the maiden stopped ; and she threw back that part of her head- 
dress which covered her face. Then he thought that the beauty 



254 THE MABINOGEON. 

of all the maidens and all the ladies that he had ever seen was 
as nothing compared to her beauty. " Lady," he said, " wilt 
thou tell me aught concerning thy purpose?" " I will tell 
thee," said she ; " my chief quest was to see thee." " Truly," 
said Pwyl], " this is to me the most pleasing quest on which 
thou couldst have come; and wilt thou tell me who thou art?" 
" I will tell thee, lord," said she. " I am Rhiannon, the daugh- 
ter of Heveydd, and they sought to give me to a husband against 
my will. But no husband would I have, and that because of 
my love for thee ; neither will I yet have one, unless thou reject 
me ; and hither have I come to hear thy answer." " By Heav- 
en," said Pwyll, "behold this is my answer. If I might 
choose among all the ladies and damsels in the world, thee 
would I choose." "Verily," said she, "if thou art thus 
minded, make a pledge to meet me ere I am given to another." 
" The sooner I may do so, the more pleasing will it be to me," 
said Pwyll; "and wheresoever thou wilt, there will I meet 
with thee." " I will that thou meet me this day twelvemonth at 
the palace of Heveydd." '• Gladly," said he, " w^ill I keep this 
tryst." So they parted, and he w^ent back to his hosts, and to 
them of his household. And whatsoever questions they asked 
him respecting the damsel, he always turned the discourse 
upon other matters. 

And when a year from that time was gone, he caused a hun- 
dred knights to equip themselves, and to go with him to the 
palace of Heveydd. And he came to the palace, and there was 
great joy concerning him, with much concourse of people, and 
great rejoicing, and vast preparations for his coming. And 
the whole court was placed under his orders. 

And the hall was garnished, and they went to meat, and thus 
did they sit : Heveydd was on one side of Pwyll, and Rhian- 
non on the other; and all the rest according to their rank. 
And they ate and feasted, and talked one with another. And 
at the beginning of the carousal after the meat, there entered 
a tall, auburn-haired youth, of royal bearing, clothed in a gar- 
ment of satin. And when he came into the hall, he saluted 
Pwyll and his companions. " The greeting of Heaven be unto 
thee," said Pwyll ; " come thou and sit down." " Nay," said 



PWYLL, PRINCE OF DYVED. 255 

he, "a suitor am I, and I will do my errand." "Do so, will- 
ingly," said Pwyll. "Lord," said he, " my errand is unto 
thee, and it is to crave a boon of thee that I come." " What 
boon soever thou mayest ask of me, so far as I am able, thou 
shalt have." " Ah ! " said Rhiannon, " wherefore didst thou 
give that answer ? " " Has he not given it before the presence 
of these nobles?" asked the youth. " My soul," said Pwyll, 
"what is the boon thou askest?" "The lady whom best I 
love is to be thy bride this night; I come to ask her of thee, 
with the feast and the banquet that are in this place." And 
Pwyll was silent, because of the promise which he had given. 
" Be silent as long as thou wilt," said Rhiannon, " never did 
man make worse use of his wits than thou hast done." " Lady," 
said he, " I knew not who he was." " Behold, this is the man 
to whom they would have given me against my will," said she ; 
" and he is Gawl, the son of Clud, a man of great power and 
wealth, and because of the word thou hast spoken, bestow me 
upon him, lest shame befall thee." " Lady," said he, " I under- 
stand not thy answer ; never can I do as thou sayest." " Be- 
stow me upon him," said she, " and I will cause that I shall 
never be his." " By what means will that be ? " asked Pwyll. 
Then she told him the thought that was in her mind. And 
they talked long together. Then Gawl said, " Lord, it is meet 
that I have an answer to my request." "As much of that thou 
hast asked as it is in my power to give, thou shalt have," replied 
Pwyll. " My soul," said Rhiannon unto Gawl, " as for the feast 
and the banquet that are here, I have bestowed them upon the 
men of Dyved, and the household and the warriors that are 
with us. These can I not suffer to be given to any. In a year 
from to-night, a banquet shajl be prepared for thee in this 
palace, that I may become thy bride." 

So Gawl went forth to his possessions, and Pwyll went also 
back to Dyved. And they both spent that year until it was 
the time for the feast at the palace of Heveydd. Then Gawl, 
the son of Clud, set out to the feast that was prepared for him; 
and he came to the palace, and was received there with rejoic- 
ing. Pwyll, also, the chief of Dyved, came to the orchard w^th 
a hundred knights, as Rhiannon had commanded him. And 



256 THE MABINOGEON. 

Pwyll was clad in coarse and ragged garments, and wore large, 
clumsy old shoes upon his feet. And when he knew that the 
carousal after the meat had begun, he went toward the hall; 
and when he came into the hall he saluted Gawl, the son of 
Clud, and his company, both men and women. " Heaven pros- 
per thee," said Gawl, " and friendly greeting be unto thee ! " 
'' Lord," said he, "may Heaven reward thee ! I have an errand 
unto thee." " Welcome be thine errand, and if thou ask of me 
that which is right, thou shalt have it gladly." "It is fitting," 
answered he ; "I crave but from want, and the boon I ask is to 
have this small bag that thou seest filled with meat." " A re- 
quest within reason is this," said he, " and gladly shalt thou 
have it. Bring him food." A great number of attendants 
arose and began to fill the bag ; but for all they j^ut into it, it 
was no fuller than at first. "My soul," said Gawl, "will thy 
bag ever be full?" "It will not, I declare to Heaven," said 
he, "for all that may be put into it, unless one possessed of 
lands, and domains, and treasure, shall arise and tread down 
with both his feet the food that is within the bag, and shall 
say, ' Enough has been put therein.' " Then said Rhiannon 
unto Gawl, the son of Clud, "Rise up quickly." "I will will- 
ingly arise," said he. So he rose up, and put his two feet into 
the bag. And Pwyll turned up the sides of the bag, so that 
Gawl was over his head in it. And he shut it up quickly, and 
slipped a knot upon the thongs, and blew his horn. And there- 
upon, behold, his knights came down upon the palace. And 
they seized all the host that had come with Gawl, and cast 
them into his own prison. And Pwyll threw off his rags, and 
his old shoes, and his tattered array. And as they came in 
every one of Pwyll's knights struck a blow upon the bag, and 
asked, "What is here?" "A badger," said they. And in 
this manner they played, each of them striking the bag, either 
with his foot or with a staff. And thus played they with the 
bao-. And then was the o'ame of BadGfer in the Bao^ first 
played. 

" Lord," said the man in the bag, " if thou wouldst but hear 
me, I merit not to be slain in a bag." Said Heveydd, " Lord, 
he speaks truth ; it were fitting that thou listen to him, for he 



PWYLL, PRINCE OF DYVED. 257 

deserves not this." " Verily," said Pwyll, " I will do thy coun- 
sel concerning him." " Behold, this is my counsel then," said 
Rhiannon. " Thou art now in a position in which it behooves 
thee to satisfy suitors and minstrels. Let him give unto them 
in thy stead, and take a pledge from him that he will never 
seek to revenge that which has been done to him. And this 
will be punishment enough." " I w^ill do this gladly," said the 
man in the bag. " And gladly will I accept it," said Pwyll, 
" since it is the counsel of Heveydd and Rhiannon. Seek thy- 
self sureties." " We will be for him," said Heveydd, " until 
his men be free to answer for him." And upon this he was let 
out of the bag, and his liegemen were liberated. " Verily, 
lord," said Gawl, " I am greatly hurt, and I have many bruises. 
With thy leave I will go forth. I will leave nobles in my stead 
to answer for me in all that thou shalt require." " Willingly," 
said Pwyll, "mayest thou do thus." So Gawl went to his own 
possessions. 

And the hall was set in order for Pwyll and the men of his 
host, and for them also of the palace, and they went to the 
tables and sat down. And as they had sat at that time twelve- 
month, so sat they that night. And they ate and feasted, and 
spent the night in mirth and tranquillity. And the time came 
that they should sleep, and Pwyll and Rhiannon went to their 
chamber. 

And next morning at break of day, " My lord," said Rhian- 
non, " arise and begin to give thy gifts unto the minstrels. 
Refuse no one to-day that may claim thy bounty." " Thus 
shall it be gladly," said Pwyll, " both to-day and every day 
while the feast shall last." So Pwyll arose, and he caused si- 
lence to be proclaimed, and desired all the suitors and minstrels 
to show and to point out what gifts they desired. And this be- 
ing done, the feast went on, and he denied no one while it lasted. 
And when the feast was ended, Pwyll said unto Heveydd, " My 
lord, w4th thy permission, I will set out for Dyved to-morrow." 
" Certainly," said Heveydd ; " may Heaven prosper thee ! Fix 
also a time when Rhiannon sliall follow thee." " By Heaven," 
said Pwyll, " we will go hence together." " Wiliest thou this, 
lord ? " said Heveydd. " Yes, lord," answered Pwyll. 



258 THE MABINOGEON. 

And the next day they set forward towards Dyved, and 
journeyed to the palace of N'arberth, where a feast was made 
ready for them. And there came to them great numbers of 
the chief men and the most noble ladies of the land, and of 
these there were none to whom Rhiannon did not give some 
rich gift, either a bracelet, or a ring, or a precious stone. And 
they ruled the land prosperously that year and the next. 




CHAPTER XXVII. 



BRANWEN, THE DAUGHTER OF LLYR. 



BENDIGEID VRAN, the son of Llyr, was the crowned 
king of this island, and he was exalted from the crown of 
London. And one afternoon he was at Harlech, in Ardudwy, 
at his court ; and he sat upon the rock of Harlech, looking over 
the sea. And with him were his brother, Manawyddan, the 
son of Llyr, and his brothers by the mother's side, Nissyen 
and Evnissyen, and many nobles likewise, as was fitting to see 
around a king. His two brothers by the mother's side were 
sons of Euroswydd, and one of these youths was a good youth, 
and of gentle nature, and would make peace between his kin- 
dred, and cause his family to be friends when their wrath was 
at the highest, and this one was Nissyen ; but the other would 
cause strife between his two brothers when they were most at 
peace. And as they sat thus they beheld thirteen ships coming 
from the south of Ireland, and making towards them ; and they 
came with a swift motion, the Avind being behind them ; and 
they neared them rapidly. " I see ships afar," said the king, 

259 



260 THE MABINOGEON. 

" coming swiftly towards the land. Command the men of the 
court that they equip themselves, and go and learn their in- 
tent." So the men equipped themselves, and went down 
towards them. And when they saw the shijDs near, certain 
were they that they had never seen ships better furnished. 
Beautiful flags of satin were upon them. And, behold, one of 
the ships outstripped the others, and they saw a shield lifted 
up above the side of the ship, and the point of the shield was 
upwards, in token of peace. And tlie men drew near, that 
they might hold converse. Then they put out boats, and came 
toward the land. And they saluted the king. N'ow the king 
could hear them from the place where he was upon the rock 
above their lieads. " Heaven prosper you," said he, " and be 
ye welcome ! To whom do those ships belong, and who is the 
chief amongst you ? " " Lord," said they, " Matholch, king of 
Ireland, is here, and these ships belong to him." " Wherefore 
comes he?" asked the king, " and will he come to the land ?" 
" He is a suitor unto thee, lord," said they, " and he will not 
land unless he have his boon." "And what may that be ? " 
inquired the king. " He desires to ally himself, lord, with 
thee," said they, " and he comes to ask Bran wen, the daughter 
of Llyr, that, if it seem well to thee, the Island of the Mighty* 
may be leagued with Ireland, and both become more power- 
ful." " Verily," said he, " let him come to land, and we will 
take counsel thereupon." And this answer was brought to 
Matholch. " I will go willingly," said he. So he landed, and 
they received him joyfully; and great was the throng in the 
palace that night between his hosts and those of the court ; 
and next day they took counsel, and they resolved to bestow 
Branwen upon Matholch. Now she was one of the three 
chief ladies of this island, and she was the fairest damsel in 
the world. 

And they fixed upon Aberfraw as the place where she should 
become his bride. And they went thence, and towards Aber- 
fraw the hosts proceeded, Matholch and his host in their ships, 
Bendigeid Vran and his host by land, until they came to Aber- 

* The Island of the Mighty is one of the many names bestowed upon Bi'itaiu 
by the Welsh. 



BEAXWEX, THE DAUGHTER OF LLYR. 261 

fraw. And at Aberfraw they began the feast, and sat down. 
And thus sat they : the kins: of the Island of the Mio-htv and 
3Ianawyddan, the son of Llyr, on one side, and Matholch on 
the other side, and Branwen, the daughter of Llyr, beside him. 
And they were not within a house, but under tents. Xo house 
could ever contain Bendigeid Yran. And they began the ban- 
quet, and caroused and discoursed. And when it was more 
pleasing to them to sleep than to carouse, they went to rest, 
and Branwen became Matholch's bride. 

And the next day they arose, and all they of the court, and 
the officers began to equip, and to range the horses and the 
attendants, and they ranged them in order as far as the sea. 

And, behold, one day Evnissyen, the quarrelsome man, of 
whom it is spoken above, came by chance into the place where 
the horses of Matholch were, and asked whose horses they 
might be. "They are the horses of Matholch, king of Ireland, 
who is married to Bran^ven, thy sister ; his horses are they." 
"And is it thus they have done with a maiden such as she, and 
moreover my sister, bestowing her, without my consent '? They 
could have offered me no greater insult than this," said he. And 
thereupon he rushed under the horses, and cut off their lips at 
the teeth, and their ears close to their heads, and their tails 
close to their backs ; and he disfigured the horses, and ren- 
dered them useless. 

And they came with these tidings unto Matholch, saying 
that the horses were disfigured and ii]jared, so that not one of 
them could ever be of any use again. •• Verily, lord." said one, 
"it was an insult unto thee, and as such was it meant." " Of a 
truth, it is a marvel to me that, if they desire to insult me, 
they should have gi^-en me a maiden of such high rank, and so 
much beloved by their kindred, as they have done." •• Lord," 
said another, " thou seest that thus it is, and there is nothing 
for thee to do but to go to thy ships." And thereupon towards 
his ships he set out. 

And tidings came to Bendigeid Vran that Matholch was 
quitting the court without asking leave, and messengers were 
sent to him to inquire wherefore he did so. And the messen- 
gers that went were Iddic, the son of Anarawd, and Heveyd 



262 THE MABINOGEON. 

Hir. And these overtook him, and asked of him what he de- 
signed to do, and wherefore he went forth. " Of a truth," 
said he, " if I had known I had not come hither. I have been 
altogether insulted ; no one had ever worse treatment than I 
liave had here." " Truly, lord, it was not the will of any that 
are of the court," said they, " nor of any that are of the coun- 
cil, that thou shouldst have received this insult ; and as thou 
hast been insulted the dishonor is greater unto Bendigeid Yran 
than unto thee." " Verily," said he, " I think so. Neverthe- 
less he cannot recall the insult." These men returned with 
that answer to the j^lace where Bendigeid Vran was, and they 
told him what reply Matholch had given them. " Truly," said 
he, " there are no means by wliich we may prevent his going 
away at enmity with us that we will not take." "Well, lord," 
said they, " send after him another embassy." " I will do so," 
said he. "Arise, Manawyddan, son of Llyr. and Heveyd Hir, 
and go after him, and tell him that he shall have a sound horse 
tor every one that has been injured. And beside that, as an 
atonement for the insult, he shall have a staff of silver as large 
and as tall as himself, and a plate of gold of the breadth of his 
face. And show nnto him who it was that did this, and that 
it was done against my will; but that he who did it is my 
brother, and therefore it would be hard for me to put him to 
death. And let him come and meet me," said he, " and we will 
make peace in any way he may desire." 

The embassy went after Matholch, and told him all these 
sayings in a friendly manner; and he listened thereunto. 
" Men," said he, " I will take counsel." So to the council he 
went. And in the council they considered that, if they should 
refuse this, they were likely to have more shame rather than 
to obtain so great an atonement. They resolved, therefore, to 
accept it, and they returned to the court in peace. 

Then the pavilions and tents were set in order after the 
fashion of a ball ; and they went to meat, and as they had sat 
at the beginning of the feast so sat they there. And Matholch 
and Bendigeid Yran began to discourse ; and, behold, it seemed 
to Bendigeid Yran, while they talked, that Matholch was not 
so cheerful as he had been before. And he thought that the 



BRAXAVEN, THE DAUGHTER OF LLYR. 263 

chieftain might be sad because of the smallness of the atone- 
ment which he had for the wrong that had been done him. " O 
man," said Bendigeid Vran, "thou dost not discourse to-night 
so cheerfully as tliou wast wont. And if it be because of the 
smallness of the atonement thou shalt add thereunto whatso- 
ever thou mayest choose, and to-morrow I will pay thee for the 
horses." " Lord," said he, " Heaven reward thee ! " "And I 
will enhance the atonement," said Bendigeid Vran, " for I will 
give thee a caldron, the property of which is that if one of thy 
men be slain to-day, and be cast therein, to-morrow he will be 
as well as ever he was at the best, except that he will not regain 
his speech." And thereupon he gave him great thanks, and 
very joyful was he for that cause. 

That night they continued to discourse as much as they 
would, and had minstrelsy and carousing ; and when it was 
more pleasant to them to sleep than to sit longer, they went to 
rest. And thus was the banquet carried on with joyousness ; 
and when it was finished, Matholch journeyed towards Ireland, 
and Bran wen wdth him ; and they went from Aber Menei with 
thirteen ships, and came to Ireland. And in Ireland was there 
great joy because of their coming. And not one great man 
nor noble lady visited Branwen unto whom she gave not either 
a clasp or a ring, or a royal jewel to keep, such as it was hon- 
orable to be seen departing with. And in these things she 
spent that year in much renown, and she passed her time pleas- 
antly, enjoying honor and friendship. And in due time a son 
was born unto her, and the name that they gave him was Gwern, 
the son of Matholch, and they put the boy out to be nursed in 
a place where were the best men of Ireland. 

And, behold, in the second year a great tumult arose in Ire- 
land, on account of the insult which Matholch had received in 
Wales, and the payment made him for his horses. And his fos- 
ter-brothers, and such as were nearest to him, blamed him openly 
for that matter. And he might have no peace by reason of the 
tumult, until they should revenge upon him this disgrace. And 
the vengeance which they took was to drive away Branwen 
from the same chamber with him, and to make her cook for 
the court ; and they caused the butcher, after he had cut up 



264 THE MABINOGEON. 

the meat, to come to her and give her every day a blow on the 
ear ; and such they made her punishment. 

" Verily, lord," said his men to Matholch, " forbid now the 
ships and the ferry-boats, and the coracles, that they go not 
into Wales, and sucli as come over from Wales hither, imprison 
them, that they go not back for this thing to be known there." 
And he did so ; and it was thus for no less than three years. 

And Branwen reared a starling in the cover of the kneading- 
trough, and she taught it to speak, and she taught the bird 
what manner of man her brother was. And she wrote a letter 
of her woes, and the despite with which she was treated, and 
she bound the letter to the root of the bird's wing, and sent it 
toward Wales. And the bird came to that island ; and one 
day it found Bendigeid Vran at Caer Seiont in Arvon, confer- 
ring there, and it alighted upon his shoulder, and ruffled its 
feathers, so that the letter was seen, and they knew that the 
bird had been reared in a domestic manner. 

Then Bendigeid Vran took the letter and looked upon it. 
And when he had read the letter, he grieved exceedingly at the 
tidings of Branwen's woes. And immediately he began send- 
ing messengers to summon the island together. And he caused 
sevenscore and four of his chief men to come unto him, and he 
complained to them of the grief that his sister endured. So 
they took counsel. And in the council they resolved to go to 
Ireland, and to leave seven men as princes at home, and Cara- 
doc,* the son of Bran, as the chief of them. 

Bendigeid Vran, with the host of which we spoke, sailed to- 
wards Ireland ; and it was not far across the sea, and he came 
to shoal water. Now the swineherds of Matholch were upon 
the seashore, and they came to Matholch. " Lord," said they, 
" greeting be unto thee." " Heaven protect you ! " said he ; 
" have you any news? " " Lord," said they, " we have marvel- 
lous news. A wood have we seen upon the sea, in a place 
where we never yet saw a single tree." " This is indeed a 
marvel," said he; "saw you aught else?" " We saw^, lord," 
said they, " a vast mountain beside the wood, which moved, 
and there was a lofty ridge on the top of the mountain, and a 

* Caractacus. 



BRANWEN, THE DAUGHTER OF LLYR. 265 

lake on each side of the ridge. And the wood and the moun- 
tain, and all these things moved." " Verily," said he, " there 
is none who can know aught concerning this unless it be 
Branwen." 

Messengers then went unto Branwen. " Lady," said they, 
" what thinkest thou that this is ? " " The men of the Island 
of the Mighty, who have come hither on hearing of my ill- 
treatment and of my woes." " What is the forest that is seen 
upon the sea?" asked they. "The yards and the masts of 
ships," she answered. " Alas ! " said they ; " what is the moun- 
tain that is seen by the side of the ships ? " " Bendigeid Vran, 
my brother," she replied, " coming to shoal water, and he is wad- 
ing to the land." " What is the lofty ridge, with the lake on 
each side thereof?" "On looking towards this island he is 
wroth, and his two eyes on each side of his nose are the two 
lakes on each side of the ridge." 

The warriors and chief men of Ireland were brought toge- 
ther in haste, and they took counsel. " Lord," said the neigh- 
bors unto Matholch, "there is no other counsel than this alone. 
Thou shalt give tlie kingdom to Gwern, the son of Branwen 
his sister, as a compensation for the wrong and despite tliat 
have been done unto Branwen. And he will make peace with 
thee." And in the council it was resolved that this message 
should be sent to Bendigeid Vran, lest the country should be 
destroyed. And this peace was made. And Matholch caused 
a great house to be built for Bendigeid Vran, and his host. 
Thereupon came the hosts into the house. The men of the 
island of Ireland entered the house on the one side, and the 
men of the Island of the Mighty on the other. And as soon 
as they had sat down, there was concord between them ; and 
the sovereignty was conferred upon the boy. When the peace 
was concluded, Bendigeid Vran called the boy unto him, and 
from Bendigeid Vran the boy went unto Manawyddan, and he 
was beloved by all that beheld him. And from Manawyddan 
the boy was called by Nissyen, the son of Euroswydd, and the 
boy went unto him lovingly. " Wherefore," said Evnissyen, 
"comes not my nephew, the son of my sister, unto me? 
Though he were not king of Ireland, yet willingly would I 



266 THE MABliNOGEON. 

fondle the boy." "Cheerfully let him go to thee," said Bendi- 
geid Vran; and the boy went unto him cheerfully. "By my 
confession to Heaven," said Evnissyen in his heart, " unthought 
of is the slaughter that I will this instant commit." 

Then he arose and took up the boy, and before any one in 
the house could seize hold of him he thrust the boy headlong 
into the blazing lire. And when Branwen saw her son burning 
in the lire, she strove to leap into the fire also, from the place 
where she sat be tween her two brothers. But Bendigeid Vran 
grasped her with one hand, and his shield wdth the other. Then 
they all hurried about the house, and never was there made so 
great a tumult by any host in one house as was made by them, 
as each man armed himself. And while they all sought their 
arms Bendigeid Vran supported Branwen betw^een his shield 
and his shoulder. And they fought. 

Then the Irish kindled a fire under the caldron of renovation, 
and they cast the dead bodies into the caldron until it was full ; 
and tlie next day they came forth fighting men, as good as 
before, except that they were not able to speak. Then when 
Evnissyen saw the dead bodies of the men of the Island of the 
Mighty nowhere resuscitated, he said in his heart, " Alas ! woe 
is me, that I should have been the cause of bringing the men of 
the Island of the Mighty into so great a strait. Evil betide 
me if I find not a deliverance therefrom." And he cast him- 
self among the dead bodies of the Irish ; and two unshod Irish- 
men came to him, and taking him to be one of the Irish, flung 
him into the caldron. And he stretched himself out in the 
caldron, so that he rent the caldron into four pieces, and burst 
his own heart also. 

In consequence of this the men of the Island of the Mighty 
obtained such success as they had ; but they were not 
victorious, for only seven men of them all escaped, and Bendi- 
geid Vran liimself was wounded in the foot with a poisoned 
dart. Now the men that escaped were Pryderi, Manawyddan, 
Taliesin, and four others. 

And Bendigeid Vran commanded them that they should cut 
off his head. " And take you my head," said he, "and bear it 
even unto the White Mount in London, and bury it there with 



BRANWEN, THE DAUGHTER OF LLYR. 267 

the face towards France. And so long as it lies there, no 
enemy shall ever land on the island." So they cut off his head, 
and these seven went forward therewith. And Branwen was 
the eighth with them. And they came to land on Aber Alaw, 
and they sat down to rest. And Branwen looked towards 
Ireland, and towards the Island of the Mighty, to see if she 
could descry them. "Alas ! " said she, " woe is me that I was 
ever born ; two islands have been destroyed because of me." 
Then she uttered a groan, and there broke her heart. And 
they made her a four-sided grave, and buried her upon the 
banks of the Alaw. 

Then the seven men journeyed forward, bearing the head 
with them ; and as they went, behold there met them a multi- 
tude of men and women. "Have you any tidings?" said 
Manawyddan. "We have none," said they, "save that 
Caswallawn,* the son of Beli, has conquered the Island of the 
Mighty, and is crowned king in London." "What lias 
become," said they, " of Caradoc, the son of Bran, and the 
seven men who were left with him in this island ? " " Cas- 
wallawn came upon them, and slew six of the men, and 
Caradoc's heart broke for grief thereof." And the seven men 
journeyed on towards London, and they buried the head in the 
White Mount, as Bendigeid Vran had directed them.f 

* Cassivellaunus. 

t There is a Triad upon the story of the head buried under tlie ^Vhite Tower 
of London, as a charm against invasion. Arthur, it seems, proudly disinterred 
the head, preferring to hold the island by his own strength alone. 




CHAPTER XXYIII. 



MANAWYDDAN. 



PWYLL and Rhiannon had a son, whom they named 
Pryderi. And when he was grown up, Pwyll, his father, 
died. And Pryderi married Kicva, the daughter of Gwynn 
Gloy. 

Now Manawyddan returned from the war in Ireland, and he 
found that his cousin had seized all his possessions, and much 
grief and heaviness came upon him. "Alas! woe is me!" he 
exclaimed ; " there is none save myself without a home and a 
resting-place." " Lord," said Pryderi, " be not so sorrowful. 
Thy cousin is king of the Island of the Mighty, and though he 
has done thee wrong, thou hast never been a claimant of land 
or possessions." " Yea," answered he, "but although this man 
is my cousin, it grieveth me to see any one in the place of my 
brother, Bendigeid Vran ; neither can I be happy in the same 
dwelling with him." " Wilt thou follow the counsel of 
another?" said Pryderi. "I stand in need of counsel," he 
answered, " and what may that counsel be ? " " Seven cantrevs 



MANAWYDDAN. 269 

belong unto me," said Prycleri, " wherein Rhiannon, my 
mother, dwells. I will bestow her upon thee, and the seven 
cantrevs with her ; and though thou hadst no possessions but 
those cantrevs only, thou couldst not have any fairer than they. 
Do thou and Rhiannon enjoy them; and if thou desire any 
possessions thou wilt not despise these." "I do not, chief- 
tain," said he. "Heaven reward thee for thy friendship ! I 
will go with thee to seek Rhiannon, and to look at thy 
possessions." "Thou wilt do well," he answered; "and I 
believe thou didst never hear a lady discourse better than she, 
and when she was in her prime, none was ever fairer. Even 
now her aspect is not uncomely." 

They set forth, and, however long the journey, they came at 
last to Dyved ; and a feast was prepared for them by Rhian- 
non and Kicva. Then began Manawyddan and Rhiannon to 
sit and to talk together ; and his mind and his thoughts be- 
came warmed towards her, and he thought in his heart he had 
never beheld any lady more fulfilled of grace and beauty than 
she. " Pryderi," said he, " I will that it be as thou didst say." 
" What saying was that ? " asked Rhiannon. " Lady," said 
Pryderi, " I did offer thee as a wife to Manawyddan, the son of 
Llyr." " By tliat will I gladly abide," said Rhiannon. " Right 
glad am I also," said Manawyddan ; " may Heaven reward him 
who hath shown unto me friendship so perfect as this." 

And before the feast was over she became his bride. Said 
Pryderi, "Tarry ye here the rest of the feast, and I will go 
into England to tender my homage unto Caswallawn, the son 
of Beli." "Lord," said Rhiannon, "Caswallawn is in Kent; 
thou mayest therefore tarry at the feast, and wait until he 
shall be nearer." "We will wait," he answered. So they 
finished the feast. And they began to make the circuit of 
Dyved, and to hunt, and to take their pleasure. And as they 
went through the country, they had never seen lands more 
pleasant to live in, nor better hunting-grounds, nor greater 
plenty of honey and fish. And such was the friendship be- 
tween these four, that they would not be parted from each 
other by night nor by day. 

And in the midst of all this he went to Caswallawn at Ox- 



270 THE MABINOGEON. 

ford, and tendered his homage ; and honorable was his recep- 
tion there, and highly was he praised for offering his homage. 

And after his return Pryderi and Manawyddan feasted and 
took their ease and pleasure. And they began a feast at Nar- 
berth, for it was the chief palace. And when they had ended 
the first meal, while those who served them ate, they arose and 
went forth, and proceeded to the Gorsedd, that is, the Mound 
of Narberth, and their retinue with them. And as they sat 
thus, behold a peal of thunder, and with the violence of tlie 
thunder-storm, lo ! there came a fall of mist, so thick that not 
one of them could see the other. And after the mist it be- 
came light all around. And wiien they looked towards the 
place where they were wont to see cattle and herds and dwell- 
ings, they saw nothing now, neither house, nor beast, nor 
smoke, nor fire, nor man, nor dwelling, but the buildings of 
the court empty, and desert, and uninhabited, without either 
man or beast wdthin them. And truly all their companions 
were lost to them, wdthout their knowing aught of what had 
befallen them, save those four only. 

"In the name of Heaven," said Manawyddan, "where are 
they of the court, and all my host beside ? Let us go and see." 

So they came to the castle, and saw no man, and into the 
hall, and to the sleeping-place, and there was none ; and in tlie 
mead-cellar and in the kitchen there was naught but desolation. 
Then they began to go through the land, and all the posses- 
sions that they had ; and they visited the houses and dwellings, 
and found nothing but wild beasts. And when they had con- 
sumed their feast and all their provisions, they fed upon the 
prey they killed in hunting, and the honey of the w41d swarms. 

And one morning Pryderi and Manawyddan rose up to hunt, 
and they ranged their dogs and went forth. And some of the 
dogs ran before them, and came to a bush which w^as near at 
hand ; but as soon as they were come to the bush, they hastily 
drew back, and returned to the men, their hair bristling up 
greatly. "Let us go near to the bush," said Pryderi, "and see 
what is in it." And as they came near, behold, a wild boar of 
a pure wdiite color rose up from the bush. Then the dogs, 
being set on by the men, rushed towards him ; but he left the 



M AN AWYDD AN . 271 

bush, and fell back a little way from the men, and made a 
stand against the dogs, without retreating from them, until 
the men had come near. And when the men came up, he fell 
back a second time, and betook him to flight. Then they pur- 
sued the boar until they beheld a vast and lofty castle, all 
newly built, in a place where they had never before seen either 
stone or building. And the boar ran swiftly into the castle, 
and the dogs after him. Now when the boar and the dogs 
had gone into the castle, the men began to wonder at finding 
a castle in a place where they had never seen any building- 
whatsoever. And from the top of the Gorsedd they looked 
and listened for the dogs. But so long as they were there, 
they heard not one of the dogs, nor aught concerning them. 

" Lord," said Pryderi, " I will go into the castle to get tid- 
ings of the dogs." "Truly," he replied, "thou wouldst be 
unwise to go into this castle, which thou hast never seen till 
now. If thou wouldst follow my counsel, thou wouldst not 
enter therein. Whosoever has cast a spell over this land, has 
caused this castle to be here." " Of a truth," answered Pry- 
deri, " I cannot thus give up my dogs." And for all the coun- 
sel that Manawyddan gave him, yet to the castle he went. 

When he came within the castle neither man, nor beast, 
nor boar, nor dogs, nor house, nor dwelling, saw he within it, 
But in the centre of the castle floor he beheld a fountain with 
marble-work around it, and on the margin of the fountain a 
golden bowl upon a marble slab, and chains hanging from the 
air, to which he saw no end. 

And he was greatly pleased with the beauty of the gold, and 
with the rich workmanship of the bowl ; and he Went up to 
the bowl, and laid hold of it. And when he had taken hold of 
it his hands stuck to the bowl, and his feet to the slab on which 
the bowl was placed ; and all his joyousness forsook him, so 
that he could not utter a word. And thus he stood. 

And Manawyddan waited for him till near the close of the 
day. And late in the evening, being certain that he should 
have no tidings of Pryderi or the dogs, he went back to the 
palace. And as he entered Rhiannon looked at him. "Where," 
said she, "are thy companion and thy dogs?" "Behold," he 



272 THE MABINOGEON. 

answered, " the adventure that has befallen me." And he 
related it all unto her. "An evil companion hast thou been," 
said Rhiannon, " and a good companion hast thou lost." And 
with that word she went out, and proceeded towards the cas- 
tle, according to the direction which he gave her. The gate of 
the castle she found open. She was nothing daunted, and she 
went in. And as she went in she i^erceived Pryderi laying hold 
of the bowl, and she went towards him. "O my lord," said 
she, " what dost thou here?" And she took hold of the bowl 
with him ; and as she did so her hands also became fast to the 
bowl, and her feet to the slab, and she was not able to utter a 
word. And with that, as it became night, lo ! there came 
thunder upon them, and a fall of mist ; and thereupon the cas- 
tle vanished, and they with it. 

When Kicva, the daughter of Glynn Gloy, saw that there 
was no one in the palace but herself and Manawyddan, she 
sorrowed so that she cared not whether she lived or died. And 
Manawyddan saw this. " Tliou art in the wrong," said he, " if 
through fear of me thou grievest thus. I call Heaven to wit- 
ness that thou hast never seen friendship more pure than that 
which I will bear thee, as long as Heaven will that thou shouldst 
be thus. • I declare to thee that, were I in the dawn of youth, 
I would keep my faith unto Pryderi, and unto thee also will I 
keep it. Be there no fear upon thee, therefore." " Heaven re- 
ward thee ! " she said ; " and that is what I deemed of thee." 
And the damsel thereupon took courage, and was glad. 

" Truly, lady," said Manawyddan, " it is not fitting for us to 
stay here ; we have lost our dogs, and cannot get food. Let 
us go into England ; it is easier for us to find support there." 
" Gladly, lord," said she, " we will do so." And they set forth 
together to England. 

"Lord," said she, "what craft wilt thou follow? Take up 
one that is seemly." "None other will I take," answered he, 
"but that of making shoes." "Lord," said she, "such a craft 
becomes not a man so nobly born as thou." "By that how- 
ever will I abide," said he. "I know nothing thereof," said 
Kicva. "But I know," answered Manawyddan, "and I 
will teach thee to stitch. We will not attempt to dress the 



MANAWYDDAN. 273 

leather, but we will buy it ready dressed, and will make the 
shoes from it." 

So they went into England, and went as far as Hereford; 
and they betook themselves to making shoes. And he began 
by buying the best cordwain that could be had in town, and 
none other would he buy. And he associated himself with the 
best goldsmith in the town, and caused him to make clasps for 
the shoes, and to gild the clasps ; and he marked how it was 
done until he learned the method. And therefore is he called 
one of the three makers of gold shoes. And when they could be 
had from him not a shoe nor hose was bought from any of the 
cordwainers in the town. But when the cordwainers perceived 
that their gains were failing (for as Manawyddan shaped the 
work so Kicva stitched it), they came together and took counsel, 
and agreed that they would slay them. And he had warning 
thereof, and it was told him how the cordwainers had agreed 
to slay him. 

" Lord," said Kicva, " wherefore should this be borne from 
these boors ? " " Nay," said he, " we will go back unto Dyved." 
So towards Dyved they set forth. 

Now Jiatfawyddan, when he set out to return to Dyved, took 
with him a burden of wheat. And he proceeded towards Nar- 
berth, and there he dwelt. And never was he better pleased 
than when he saw Narberth again, and the lands where he 
had been wont to hunt with Pryderi and with Rhiannon. 
And he accustomed himself to fish and to hunt the deer in 
their covert. And then he began to prepare some ground, 
and he sowed a croft, and a second, and a third. And no 
wheat in the world ever sprung up better. And the three 
crofts prospered with perfect growth, and no man ever saw 
fairer wheat than it. 

And thus passed the seasons of the year until the harvest 
came. And he went to look at one of his crofts, and, behold, 
it was ripe. "I will reap this to-morrow," said he. And that 
night he went back to Narberth, and on the morrow, in the 
gray dawn, he went to reap the croft; and when he came 
there he found nothing but the bare straw. Every one of the 
ears of the wheat was cut off from the stalk, and all the ears 



274 THE MABINOGEON. 

carried entirely away, and nothing but the straw left. And at 
this he marvelled greatly. 

Then he went to look at another croft, and, behold, that also 
was ripe. ". Verily," said he, "this will I reap to-morrow." 
And on the morrow he came with the intent to reap it ; and 
when he came there he found nothing but the bare straw. " O 
gracious Heaven!" he exclaimed, "I know that whomsoever 
has begun my ruin is completing it, and has also destroyed the 
country with me." 

Then he went to look at the third croft ; and when he came 
there, finer wheat had there never been seen, and this also was 
ripe. " Evil betide me," said he, " if I watch not here to- 
night. Whoever carried off the other corn will come in like 
manner to take this, and I will know Avho it is." And he told 
Kicva all that had befallen. " Yerily," said she, " what think- 
est thou to do '? " " I will watch the croft to-night," said he. 
And he went to wateli the croft. 

And at midnight he heard something stirring among the 
wheat ; and he looked, and behold, the mightiest host of mice 
in the world, which could neither be numbered nor measured. 
And he knew not what it was until the mice had made their 
way into the croft, and each of them, climbing up the straw, 
and bending it down with its weight, had cut off one of the 
ears of wheat, and had carried it away, leaving there the 
stalk; and he saw not a single straw there that had not a 
mouse to it. And they all took their way, carrying the ears 
with them. 

In wrath and anger did he rush upon the mice ; but he could 
no more come up with them than if they had been gnats or 
birds of the air, except one only, which, though it was but 
sluggish, went so fast that a man on foot could scarce overtake 
it. And after this one he went, and he caught it, and put it in 
his glove, and tied up the opening of the glove with a string, 
and kept it with him, and returned to the palace. Then he 
came to the hall where Kicva was, and he lighted a fire, and 
hung the glove by the string upon a peg. " What hast thou 
there, lord?" said Kicva. "A thief," said he, "that I found 
robbing me." " What kind of a thief may it be, lord, that 



MANAWYDDAN. 275 

thou couldst put into thy glove ? " said she. Then he told her 
how the mice came to the last of the fields in his sight. " And 
one of them was less nimble than the rest, and is now in my 
glove; to-morrow I will hang it." "My lord," said she, "this 
Ts Qiarvellous ; but yet it would be unseemly for a man of dig- 
nity like thee to be hanging such a reptile as this." " Woe 
betide me," said he, "if I would not hang them all, could I 
catch them, and such as I have I will hang." " Verily, lord," 
said she, " there is no reason that I should succor this reptile, 
except to prevent discredit unto thee. Do therefore, lord, as 
thou wilt." 

Then he went to the Mound of Narberth, taking the mouse 
with him. And he set up two forks on the highest part of the 
mound. And while he was doing this, behold, he saw a scholar 
coming towards him, in old and poor and tattered garments. 
And it was now seven years since he had seen in that place 
either man or beast, except those four persons who had re- 
mained together until two of them were lost. 

" My lord," said the scholar, " good day to thee." " Heaven 
prosper thee, and my greeting be unto thee ! And Avhence 
dost thou come, scholar ? " asked he. " I come, lord, from 
singing in England ; and wherefore dost thou inquire ? " " Be- 
cause for the last seven years," answered he, "I have seen no 
man here save four secluded persons, and thyself this moment." 
" Truly, lord," said he, "I go through this land unto mine own. 
And what work art thou upon, lord ? " "I am hanging a thief 
that I caught robbing me," said he. " What manner of thief 
is that ?" asked the scholar. " I see a creature in thy hand like 
unto a mouse, and ill does it become a man of rank equal to 
tliine to touch a reptile such as this. Let it go forth free." 
" I will not let it go free, by Heaven," said he, " I caught it rob- 
bing me, and the doom of a thief will I inflict upon it, and I 
will hang it." " Lord," said he, " rather than see a man of 
rank equal to thine at such a work as this, I would give thee a 
pound, which I have received as alms, to let the reptile go forth 
free." "I will not let it go free," said he, " neither will I sell 
it." " As thou wilt, lord," he answered ; " I care naught." 
And the scholar went his way. 



276 THE MABINOGEON. 

And as he was placing the cross-beam upon the two forks, 
behold, a priest came towards him, upon a horse covered with 
trappings. " Good day to thee, lord," said he. " Heaven pros- 
per thee!" said Manawyddan; "thy blessing." " The bless- 
ing of Heaven be upon thee ! And what, lord, art thou do- 
ing ? " "I am hanging a thief that I caught robbing me," said 
he. " What manner of thief, lord?" asked he. " A creature," 
he answered, " in form of a mouse. It has been robbino- me, 
and I am inflicting upon it the doom of a thief." " Lord," 
said he, " rather than see thee touch this reptile, I would pur- 
chase its freedom." " By my confession to Heaven, neither 
will I sell it nor set it free." " It is true, lord, that it is worth 
nothing to buy; but rather than see thee defile thyself by 
touching such a reptile as this, I will give thee three pounds to 
let it go." " I will not, by Heaven," said he, " take any price 
for it. As it ought, so shall it be hanged." And the priest 
went his way. 

Then he noosed the string around the mouse's neck, and as 
he was about to draw it up, behold, he saw a bishop's retinue, 
wdth his sumpter-horses and his attendants. And the bishop 
himself came towards him. And he stayed his Mork. "Lord 
Bishop," said he, " thy blessing." " Heaven's blessing be unto 
thee ! * said he. " What work art thou upon ? " " Hanging a 
thief that I caught robbing me," said he. " Is not that a 
mouse that I see in thy hand?" "Yes," answered he, " and 
she has robbed me." " Ah," said he, " since I have come at the 
doom of this reptile, I will ransom it of thee. I will give thee 
seven pounds for it, and that rather than see a man of rank 
equal to thine destroying so vile a reptile as this. Let it loose, 
and thou shalt have the money." " I declare to Heaven that I 
will not let it loose." " If thou wilt not loose it for this, I will 
give thee four and twenty pounds of ready money to set it 
free." " I will not set it free, by Heaven, for as much again," 
said he. " If thou wilt not set it free for this, I will give thee 
all the horses that thou seest in this plain, and the seven loads 
of baggage, and the seven horses that they are upon." " By 
Heaven, I will not," he replied. " Since for this thou wilt not 
set it free, do so at what price soever thou wilt." " I will that 



MANAWYDDx\N. 277 

Rhiannon and Pryderi be free," said he. " That thou slialt 
have," he answered. " Not yet will I loose the mouse, by 
Heaven." "What then wouldst thou?" "That the charm 
and the illusion be removed from the seven cantrevs of Dyved." 
" This shalt thou have also ; set therefore the mouse free." 
" I will not set it free, by Heaven," said he, " till I know who 
the mouse may be." " She is my wife." " Wherefore came she 
to me?" " To despoil thee," he answered. " I am Lloyd, the 
son of Kilwed, and I cast the charm over the seven cantrevs of 
Dyved. And it was to avenge Gawl, the son of Clud, from the 
friendship that I had towards him, that I cast the charm. And 
upon Pryderi did I avenge Gawl, the son of Clud, for the game 
of Badger in the Bag, that Pwyll, the son of Auwyn, played 
upon him. And when it Avas known that thou wast come to 
dwell in the land, my household came and besought me to 
transform them into mice, that they might destroy thy corn. 
And they went the first and the second night, and destroyed 
thy two crops. And the third night came unto me my Avife and 
the ladies of the court, and besought me to transform them. 
And I transformed them. Now she is not in her usual health. 
And had she been in her usual health, thou wouldst not have 
been able to overtake her ; but since this has taken place, and 
she has been caught, I will restore to thee Pryderi and Rhian- 
non, and I will take the charm and illusion from off Dyved. 
Set her therefore free." " I will not set her free yet." " What 
wilt thou more?" he asked. "I will that there be no more 
charm upon the seven cantrevs of Dyved, and that none shall 
be put upon it henceforth ; moreover, that vengeance be never 
taken for this, either upon Pryderi or Rhiannon, or upon me." 
" All this shalt thou have. And truly thou hast done wisely in 
asking this. Upon thy head would have lit all this trouble." 
" Yea," said he, " for fear thereof was it that I required this." 
" Set now my wife at liberty." " I will not," said he, " until I 
see Pryderi and Rhiannon with me free." " Behold, here they 
come," he answered. 

And thereupon behold Pryderi and Rhiannon. And he rose 
up to meet them, and greeted them, and sat down beside tliem. 
" Ah, chieftain, set now my wife at liberty," said the bishop. 



278 THE MABINOGEON. 

" Hast thou not received all thou dijdst ask ? " "I will release 
her, gladly," said he. And thereupon he set her free. 

Then he struck her with a magic 'wand, and she was changed 
back into a young woman, the fairest ever seen. 

" Look round upon thy land," said he, " and thou wilt see 
it all tilled and peopled as it was in its best estate." And he 
rose up and looked forth. And when he looked he saw all the 
lands tilled, and full of herds and dwellings. 

And thus ends this portion of the Mabinogi. 



The following allusions to the preceeding story are found in 
a letter of the poet Southey to John Rickman, Esq., dated 
June 6th, 1802 : — 

" You will read the Mabinogeon, concerning which I ought 
to have talked to you. In the last, that most odd and 
Arabian-like story of the mouse, mention is made of a begging 
scholar, that helps to the date ; but where did the Cymri get 
the imagination that could produce such a tale? That enchant- 
ment of the basin hano^ino- by the chain from heaven is in the 
wildest spirit of the Arabian Nights. I am perfectly astonished 
that such fictions should exist in Welsh. They throw no light 
on the origin of romance, everything being utterly dissimilar 
to what we mean by that term, but they do open a new world 
of fiction ; and if the date of their language be fixed about the 
twelfth or thirteenth century, I cannot but think the mytho- 
logical substance is of far earlier date ; very probably brought 
from the East by some of the first settlers or conquerors." 




CHAPTER XXIX. 



KILWICH AM) OLWEN. 



KILYDD, the son of Prince Kelyddon, desired a wife as a 
helpmate, and the wife that he chose was Goleudid, the 
daughter of Prince Anlawd. And after their union the people 
put up prayers that they might have an heir. And they had a 
son through the prayers of the people; and called his name 
Kilwich. 

After this the boy's mother, Goleudid, the daughter of Prince 
Anlawd, fell sick. Then she called her husband to her, and 
said to him, " Of this sickness I shall die, and thou wilt take 
another wife. Now wives are the gift of the Lord, but it 
would be wrong for thee to harm thy son. Therefore I charge 
thee that thou take not a wife until thou see a briar with two 
blossoms upon my grave." And this he promised her. Then 
she besought him to dress her grave every year, that no weeds 
might grow thereon. So the queen died. N'ow the king sent 
an attendant every morning to see if anything were growing 
upon the grave. And at the end of the seventh year they 
neglected that which they had promised to the queen. 

279 



280 THE MABINOGEON^. 

One day the king went to hunt ; and he rode to the place of 
burial, to see the grave, and to know if it were time that he 
should take a wife ; and the king saw the briar. And when 
he saw it, the king took counsel where he should find a wife. 
Said one of his counsellors, " I know a wife that will suit thee 
w^ell ; and she is the wife of King Doged." And they re- 
solved to go to seek her ; and they slew the king, and brought 
away his wife. And they conquered the king's lands. And lie 
married the widow of King Doged, the sister of Yspadaden 
Penkawr. 

And one day his stepmother said to Kilwich, " It were well 
for thee to have a wife." " I am not yet of an age to wed," 
answered the youth. Then said she unto him, "I declare to 
thee that it is thy destiny not to be suited with a wife until 
thou obtain Olwen, the daughter of Yspadaden Penkawr." 
And the youth blushed, and the love of the maiden diffused 
itself through all his frame, although he had never seen her. 
And his father inquired of him, " What has come over thee, 
my son, and what aileth thee?" "My stepmother has 
declared to me that I shall never have a wife until I obtain 
Olwen, the daughter of Yspadaden Penkawr." "That will 
be easy for thee," answered his father. "Arthur is thy cousin. 
Go, therefore, unto Arthur, to cut thy hair, and ask this of him 
as a boon." 

And the youth pricked forth upon a steed with head dappled 
gray, four winters old, firm of limb, with shell-formed hoofs, 
having a bridle of linked gold on his head, and upon him a 
saddle of costly gold. And in the youth's hand were two 
spears of silver, sharp, well tempered, headed with steel, three 
ells in length, of an edge to wound the wind, and cause blood 
to flow, and swifter than the fall of the dew-drop from the 
blade of reed-grass, when the dew of June is at the heaviest. 
A gold-hilted sword was upon his thigh, the blade of which 
was gilded, bearing a cross of inlaid gold of the hue of the 
lightning of heaven. His war-horn was of ivory. Before him 
were two brindled, white-breasted greyhounds, having strong 
collars of rubies about their necks, reaching from the shoulder 
to the ear. And the one that was upon the left side bounded 



KILWICH AND OLWEN. 281 

across to the right side, and the one on the right to the left, 
and, like two sea-swallows, sported around him. And liis 
courser cast up four sods, with his four hoofs, like four swal- 
lows in the air, about his head, now above, now below. About 
him was a four-cornered cloth of purple, and an apple of gold 
was at each corner, and every one of the apples was of tlie 
value of an hundred kine. And there was precious gold of the 
value of three hundred kine upon his shoes, and upon his 
stirrups, from his knee to the tip of his toe. And the blade of 
grass bent not beneath him, so light w^as his courser's tread, as 
he journeyed toward the gate of Arthur's palace. 

Spoke the youth: "Is there a porter?" "There is ; and if 
thou boldest not thy peace, small will be thy welcome. I am 
Arthur's porter every first day of January." " Open the 
portal." "I will not open it." "Wherefore not?" "The 
knife is in the meat, and the drink is in the iTorn, and there is 
revelry in Arthur's hall; and none may enter therein but tlie 
son of a king of a privileged country, or a craftsman bringing 
his craft. But there will be refreshment for thy dogs and for 
thy horse; and for thee there will be collops cooked and 
peppered, and luscious wine, and mirthful songs ; and food for 
fifty men shall be brought unto thee in the guest-chamber, 
where the stranger and the sons of other countries eat, who 
come not into the precincts of the palace of Arthur. Thou wilt 
fare no worse there than thou wouldst with Arthur in the 
court. A lady shall smooth thy couch, and shall lull thee with 
songs ; and early to-morrow morning, when the gate is open 
for the multitude that come hither to-day, for thee shall it be 
opened first, and thou mayest sit in the place that thou shalt 
choose in Arthur's hall, from the upper end to the lower." 
Said the youth: "That will I not do. If thou openest the 
gate, it is well. If thou dost not open it, I will bring disgrace 
upon thy lord, and evil report upon thee. And I will set up 
three shouts at this very gate, than which none were ever 
heard more deadly." " What clamor soever thou mayest 
make," said Glewlwyd the porter, "against the laws of 
Arthur's palace, shalt thou not enter therein, until I first go 
and speak with Arthur." 



282 THE MABINOGEON. 

Then Glewlwyd went into the hall. And Arthur said to 
him, " Hast thou news from the gate ? " " Half of my life is 
passed," said Glewlwyd, " and half of thine. I was heretofore 
in Kaer Se and Asse, in Sach and Salach, in Lotor and Fotor, 
and I have been in India the Great and India the Lesser, and I 
have also been in Europe and Africa, and in the islands of 
Corsica, and I was present when thou didst conquer Greece in 
the East. Mne supreme sovereigns, handsome men, saw we 
there, but never did I behold a man of equal dignity with him 
who is now at the door of the portal." Then said Arthur, " If 
walking thou didst enter here, return thou running. It is un- 
becoming to keep such a man as thou sayest he is in the wind 
and the rain." Said Kay : " By the hand of my friend, if thou 
wouldst follow my counsel, thou wouldst not break through 
the laws of the court because of him." " Not so, blessed Kay," 
said Arthur ; " it is an honor to us to be resorted to, and the 
greater our courtesy, the greater will be our renown and our 
fame and our glory." 

And Glewlwyd came to the gate, and opened the gate before 
Kilwich ; and although all dismounted upon the horse-block at 
the gate, yet did he not dismount, but he rode in upon his 
charger. Then said he, " Greeting be unto thee, sovereign 
ruler of this island, and be this greeting no less unto the 
lowest than unto the highest, and be it equally unto thy guests 
and thy warriors and thy chieftains; let all partake of it 
as completely as thyself. And complete be thy favor and thy 
fame and thy glory, throughout all this island." "Greeting 
unto thee also," said Arthur ; " sit thou between two of my 
warriors, and thou shalt have minstrels before thee, and thou 
slialt enjoy the privileges of a king born to a throne, as long as 
thou remainest here. And when I dispense my presents to the 
visitors and strangers in this court, they shall be in thy hand 
at my commencing." Said the youth : " I came not here to 
consume meat and drink ; but if I obtain the boon that I seek, 
I will requite it thee, and extol thee ; but if I have it not I will 
bear forth thy dispraise to the four quarters of the world, as 
far as thy renown has extended." Then said Arthur, " Since 
thou wilt not remain here, chieftain, thou shalt receive the 



KILWICH AND OLWEN. 283 

boon, whatsoever thy tongue may name, as far as the wind 
dries, and the rain moistens, and the sun revolves, and the sea 
encircles, and the earth extends ; save only my ship Prydwen, 
and my mantle, and Caleburn, my sword, and Rhongomyant, 
my lance, and Guenever, my wife. By the truth of Heaven, 
thou shalt have it cheerfully, name what thou wilt." "I 
would that thou bless my hair," said he. " That shall be 
granted thee." 

And Arthur took a golden comb, and scissors whereof the 
loops were of silver, and he combed his hair. And Arthur 
inquired of him who he was; " for my heart warms unto thee, 
and I know that thou art come of my blood. Tell me, there- 
fore, who thou art." "I will tell thee," said the youth. "I 
am Kilwich, the son of Kilydd, the son of Prince Kelyddon, by 
Goleudyd my mother, the daughter of Prince Anlawd." 
" That is true," said Arthur ; " thou art my cousin. Whatso- 
ever boon thou mayest ask, thou shalt receive, be it wliat it 
may that thy tongue shall name." "Pledge the truth of 
Heaven and the faith of thy kingdom thereof." " I pledge it 
thee gladly." " I crave of thee, then, that thou obtain for me 
Olwen, the daughter of Yspadaden Penkawr, to wife ; and this 
boon I likewise seek at the hands of tliy warriors. I seek it 
from Kay and from Bedwyr; and from Gwynn, the son of 
^N^udd, and Gadwy, the son of Geraint, and Prince Flewddur 
Flam, and lona, king of France, and Sel, the son of Selgi, and 
Taliesin, the chief of the bards, and Geraint, the son of Erbin, 
GarauAvyn, the son of Kay, and Amren, the son of Bedwyr, 01, 
the son of Olwyd, Bedwin, the bishop, Guenever, the chief 
lady, and Guenhywach, her sister, Morved, the daughter of 
Urien, and Gwenlian Deg, the majestic maiden, Creiddylad,* 
the daughter of Lludd, the constant maiden, and Ewaedan, the 



* Creiddylad is no other than Shakespeare's Cordelia, whose father, King 
Lear, is by the Welsh authorities called indiscriminately Llyr or Llydd. All the 
old chroniclers give the story of her devotion to her aged parent, but none of 
them seem to have been aware that she is destined to remain with him till the day 
of doom, whilst Gwyn ap Xudd, the king of the fairies, and Gwythyr ap Greidiol, 
fight for her every first of ■May, and whichever of them may be fortunate enough 
to be the conqueror at that time will obtain her as his bride. 



284 THE MABINOGEON. 

daughter of Kynvelyn,* the half-man." All these did Kilwich, 
the son of Kilydd, adjure to obtain his boon. 

Then said Arthur, " O chieftain, I have never heard of the 
maiden of whom thou speakest, nor of her kindred, but I will 
gladly send messengers in search of her. Give me time to seek 
her." And the youth said, " I will willingly grant from this 
night to that at the end of the year to do so." Then Arthur 
sent messengers to every land within his dominions to seek for 
the maiden, and at the end of the year Arthur's messengers 
returned without having gained any knowledge or intelligence 
concerning 01 wen more than on the tirst day. Then said Kil- 
wich, " Every one has received his boon, and I yet lack mine. 
I will depart, and bear away thine honor with me." Then said 
Kay, "Rash chieftain ! dost thou reproach Arthur? Go with 
us, and we will not part until thou dost either confess that the 
maiden exists not in the world, or until we obtain her." 
Thereupon Kay rose up. And Arthur called Bedwyr, who 
never shrank from any enterprise upon which Kay was bound. 
None were equal to him in swiftness throughout this island 
except Arthur alone ; and although he was one-handed three 
warriors could not shed blood faster than he on the field of 
•battle. 

And Arthur called to Kyndelig, the guide, " Go thou upon 
this expedition with the chieftain." For as good a guide was 
he in a land which he had never seen as he was in his own. 

He called Gurhyr Gwalstat, because he knew all tongues. 

He called Gawain, the son of Gwyar, because he never 
returned home without achieving the adventure of which he 
went in quest. 

And Arthur called Meneu, the son of Teirgwed, in order 
that, if they went into a savage country, he might cast a charm 

* The Welsh have a f\ible on the subject of the half-man, taken to be illustra- 
tive of the force of habit. In this allefrory Arthur is supposed to be met by a 
sprite, who appears at first in a small and indistinct form, but who, on approach- 
ing nearer, increases in size, and, assumino: the semblance of half a man, endeav- 
ors to provoke the king- to wrestle. Despising his weakness, and considering that 
he should gain no credit by the encounter, Arthur refuses to do so, and delays the 
contest until at length the half-man (Habit) becomes so strong that it requires his 
utmost efforts to overcome him. 



KILWICH AND OLWEN. 285 

and an illusion over them, so that none might see them whilst 
they could see every one. 

They journeyed until they came to a vast open plain, w^herein 
they saw a great castle, which was the fairest of the castles of 
the Avorld. And when they came before the castle they beheld 
a vast flock of sheep. And upon the top of a mound there 
Avas a herdsman keeping the sheep. And a rug made of skins 
was upon him, and by his side was a shaggy mastiff, larger 
than a steed nine winters old. 

Then said Kay, " Gurhyr Gwalstat, go thou and salute yon- 
der man." "Kay," said he, " I engaged not to go further than 
thou thyself." "Let us go then together," answered Kay. 
Said Meneu, " Fear not to go thither, for I will cast a spell 
upon the dog so that he shall injure no one." And they went 
up to the mound whereon the herdsman was, and they said 
to him, "How dost thou fare, herdsman ?" "Not less fair be 
it to you than to me." " Whose are the sheep that thou dost 
keep, and to wdiom does yonder castle belong? " " Stupid are 
ye, truly ! not to know that tliis is the castle of Yspadaden 
Penkawr. And ye also, who are ye?" "We are an embassy 
from Arthur, come to seek Olwen, the daughter of Yspadaden 
Penkawr." " O men ! the mercy of Heaven be upon you ; do 
not that for all the world. None who ever came hither on this 
quest has returned alive." And the herdsman rose up. And 
as he rose Kilwich gave unto him a ring of gold. And he 
went home and gave the ring to his spouse to keep. And she 
took the ring when it was given her, and she said, " Whence 
came this ring, for thou art not wont to have good fortune?" 
" O wife, him to whom this ring belonged thou shalt see here 
this evening." "And who is he?" asked the woman. "Kil- 
wich, the son of Kilydd, by Goleudid, the daughter of Prince 
Anlawd, who is come to seek Olwen as his wife." And when 
she heard that, she had joy that her nephew, the son of her 
sister, was coming to her, and sorrow because she had never 
known any one depart alive who had come on that quest. 

And the men went forward to the gate of the herdsman's 
dwelling. And when she heard their footsteps approaching 
she ran out wdth joy to meet them. And Kay snatched a bil- 



286 THE MABINOGEON. 

let out of the pile. And when slie met them she sought to 
throw her arms about their necks. And Kay placed the log 
between her two hands, and she squeezed it so that it became 
a twisted coil. " O woman," said Kay, " if thou hadst squeezed 
me thus none could ever again set their affections on me. Evil 
love were this." They entered into the house and were served ; 
and soon after they all went forth to amuse themselves. Then 
the woman opened a stone chest that was before the chimney- 
corner, and out of it rose a youth with yellow, curling hair. 
Said Gurhyr, " It is a pity to hide this youth. I know that it 
is not his own crime tliat is thus visited upon him." "This is 
but a remnant," said the woman. "Three and twenty of my 
sons has Yspadaden Penkawr slain, and I have no more hope 
of this one than of the others." Then said Kay, " Let him 
come and be a companion with me and he shall not be slain 
unless I also am slain with him." And they ate. And the 
woman asked them, " Upon what errand come you here ? " 
" We come to seek 01 wen for this youth." Then said the 
woman, " In the name of Heaven, since no one from the castle 
hath yet seen you, return again whence you came." " Heaven 
is our witness that we will not return until we have seen the 
maiden. Does she ever come hither, so that she may be seen ? " 
" She comes here every Saturday to wash her head, and in the 
vessel where she washes she leaves all her rings, and she never 
either comes herself or sends any messenger to fetch them." 
" Will she come here if she is sent to?" " Heaven knows that 
I will not destroy my soul, nor will I betray those that trust 
me; unless you wdll i3ledge me your faith that you will not 
harm her I will not send to her." " We pledge it," said they. 
So a message was sent, and she came. 

The maiden was clothed in a robe of flame-colored silk, and 
about her neck was a collar of ruddy gold, on which were 
precious emeralds and rubies. More yellow was her head than 
the flower, of the broom,* and her skin was whiter than the 
foam of the wave, and fairer were her hands and her fingers 

* The romancers dwell with great complacency on the fair hair and delicate 
complexion of their heroines. This taste continued for a long time, and to ren- 
der the hair light was an object of education. Even when wigs came into fashion 



KILWICH AND OLWEN. 287 

than the blossoms of the wood-anemone amidst the spray of 
the meadow fountain. The eye of the trained hawk was not 
brighter than hers. Her bosom was more snowy than the 
breast of the white swan, her cheek was redder than the red- 
dest roses. Whoso beheld her was filled with her love. Four 
white trefoils sprung up wherever she trod. And therefore 
was she called Olwen. 

She entered the house and sat beside Kilwich upon the fore- 
most bench ; and as soon as he saw her he knew her. And 
Kilwich said unto her, "Ah! maiden, thou art she whom I 
have loved ; come away with me, lest they speak evil of thee 
and of me. Many a day have I loved thee." " I cannot do 
this, for I have pledged my faith to my father not to go with- 
out his counsel, for his life will last only until the time of my 
espousals. Whatever is to be, must be. But I will give thee 
advice, if thou wilt take it. Go ask me of my father, and that 
wdiich he shall require of thee, grant it, and thou wilt obtain 
me ; but if thou deny him anything, thou wilt not obtain me, 
and it will be well for thee if thou escape wdth thy life." " I 
promise all this, if occasion offer," said he. 

She returned to her chamber, and they all rose up, and fol- 
lowed her to the castle. And they slew the nine porters, that 
w^ere at the nine gates, in silence. And they slew the nine 
watch-dogs without one of them barking. And they went 
forward to the hall. 

" The greeting of Heaven and of man be unto thee, Yspa- 
daden Penkawr," said they. "And you, wherefore come 
you?" "We come to ask thy daughter Olwen for Kilwich, 
the son of Kilydd, ihe son of Prince Kelyddon." " Where 
are my pages and my servants : Raise up the forks beneath 
my two eyebrows, which have fallen over my eyes, that I may 
see the fashion of my son-in-law." And they did so. " Come 
hither to-morrow, and you shall have an answer." 

They rose to go forth, and Yspadaden Penkawr seized one 
of the three poisoned darts that lay beside him, and threw it 

they were all flaxen. Such was the color of the hair of the Gauls and of their 
German conquerors. It required some centuries to reconcile their eves to the 
swarthy beauties of their Spanish and Italian neighbors. 



288 THE MABINOGEON. 

after them. And Bedwyr caught it, and flung it, and pierced 
Yspadaden Penkawr grievously with it through the knee. 
Then he said, " A cursed ungentle son-in-law, truly ! I shall 
ever walk the worse for his rudeness, and shall ever be without 
a cure. This poisoned iron pains me like the bite of a gad-fly. 
Cursed be the smith who forged it,' and the anvil on which it 
vv-as wrought ! So sharp is it ! " 

That night also they took up their abode in the house of the 
herdsman. The next day, with the dawn, they arrayed them- 
selves and j^roceeded to the castle, and entered the hall; and 
they said, " Yspadaden Penkawr, give us thy daughter in con- 
sideration of her dower and her maiden fee, which we will pay 
to thee, and to her two kinswomen likewise." Then he said, 
"Her four great-grandmothers, and her four great-grandsires 
are yet alive; it is needful that I take counsel of them." "Be 
it so," they answered ; "we will go to meat." As they rose 
up, he took the second dart that was beside him, and cast it 
after them. And Meneu, the son of Gawedd, caught it, and 
flung it back at him, and wounded him in the centre of the 
breast. "A cursed ungentle son-in-law, truly !" said he ; "the 
hard iron pains me like the bite of a horse-leech. Cursed be 
the hearth whereon it was heated, and the smith who formed 
it ! So sharp is it ! Henceforth, whenever I go up hill, I shall 
have a scant in my breath, and a pain in my chest, and I shall 
often loathe my food." And they went to meat. 

And the third day they returned to the palace. And Yspa- 
daden Penkawr said to them, " Shoot not at me again, unless 
you desire death. Where are my attendants? Lift up the 
forks of my eyebrows, Avhich have fallen over my eyeballs, 
that I may see the fashion of my son-in-law." Then they 
arose, and, as they did so, Yspadaden Penkawr took the third 
poisoned dart and cast it at them. And Kilwich caught it, ■ 
and threw it Adgorously, and wounded him through the- eye- 
ball. "A cursed ungentle son-in-law, truly! As long as I re- 
main alive, my eyesight will be the worse. Whenever I go 
against the wind, my eyes will water ; and peradventure my 
head will burn, and I shall have a giddiness every new moon. 
Like the bite of a mad dog is the stroke of this poisoned iron. 



KILWICH AND OLWEN. 289 

Cursed be the fire in which it was forged ! " And they went 
to meat. 

And the next day they came again to the palace, and they 
said, " Shoot not at us any more, unless thou desirest such hurt 
and harm and torture as thou now hast, and even more." 
Said Kilwich, "Give me thy daughter; and if thou wilt not 
give her, thou shalt receive thy death because of her." 
"Where is he that seeks my daughter? Come hither, where 
I may see thee." And they placed him a chair face to face 
with him. 

Said Yspadaden Penkawr, "Is it thou that seekest my 
daughter ? " 

" It is I," answered Kilwich. 

" I must have thy pledge that thou wilt not do toward me 
otherwise than is just; and when I have gotten that which I 
shall name, my daughter thou shalt have." 

" I promise thee that, willingly," said Kilwich ; " name what 
thou wilt." 

" I will do so," said he. " Seest thou yonder red tilled 
ground ? " 

" I see it." 

" When first I met the mother of this maiden, nine bushels 
of flax were sown therein, and none has yet sprung up, white 
or black. I require to have the flax to sow in the new land 
yonder, that when it grows up it may make a Avhite whiraple 
for my daughter's head on the day of thy wedding." 

" It will be easy for me to compass this, although thou may- 
est think it will not be easy." 

" Though thou get this, there is yet that which thou wilt not 
get, — the harp of Teirtu, to play to us that night. When a 
man desires that it should play, it does so of itself; and when 
he desh-es that it should cease, it ceases. And this he will not 
give of his own free will, and thou wilt not be able to compel 
him." 

" It will be easy for me to compass this, although thou may- 
est think that it will not be easy." 

" Though thou get this, there is yet that which thou wilt not 
get. I require thee to get me for my huntsman Mabon, the son 



290 THE MABIXOGEOX. 

of Modron. He was taken from his mother Avhen three nights 
old, and it is not known where he now is, nor whether he is 
living or dead." 

" It will be easy for me to compass this, although thou may- 
est think it will not be easy." 

" Though thou get this, there is yet that which thou wilt not 
get, — the two cubs of the wolf Gast Rliymhi ; no leash in the 
world will hold them, but a leash made from the beard of Dil- 
lus Varwawc, the robber. And the leash will be of no avail 
unless it be i^lucked from his beard while he is alive. While he 
lives, he will not suffer this to be done to him, and the leash 
will be of no use should he be dead, because it will be brittle." 

"It will be easy for me to compass this, although thou may- 
est think it will not be easy." 

" Though thou get this, there is yet that which thou wilt not 
get, — the sword of Gwernach the Giant; of his own free will 
he will not give it, and thou wilt never be able to compel 
him." 

" It will be easy for me to compass this, although thou may- 
est think it will not be easy." 

" Though thou get this, there is yet that which thou wilt not 
get. Difficulties shalt thou meet with, and nights without 
sleep, in seeking this, and if thou obtain it not, neither shalt 
thou obtain my daughter." 

"Horses shall I have, and chivalry; and my lord and kins- 
man, Arthur, will obtain for me all these things. And I shall 
gain thy daughter, and thou shalt lose thy life." 

"Go forward. And thou shalt not be chargeable for food or 
raiment for my daughter while thou art seeking these things ; 
and when thou hast compassed all these marvels, thou shalt 
have mv daughter for thy wife." 







CHAPTER XXX. 



KILWICH AND OLWEN, CONTINUED. 

ALL that day they journeyed until the evening, and then 
they beheld a vast castle, which was the largest in the 
w^orld. And lo ! a black man, larger than three of the men of 
this world, came out from the castle. And they spoke unto 
him, and said, "O man, whose castle is that?" "Stupid are 
ye, truly, O men ! There is no one in the world that does not 
know that this is the castle of Gwernach the Giant." " What 
treatment is there for guests and strangers that alight in that 
castle?" " O chieftain, Heaven protect thee ! No guest ever 
returned thence alive, and no one may enter therein unless he 
brings with him his craft." 

Then they proceeded towards the gate. Said Gurhyr Gwal- 
stat, " Is there a porter ! " " There is ; wherefore dost thou 
call ? " " Open the gate." " I will not open it." " Wherefore 
wdlt thou not ? " " The knife is in the meat, and the drink is 
in the horn, and there is revelry in the hall of Gwernach the 
Giant ; and except for a craftsman who brings his craft, the 

291 



292 THE MABINOGEON. 

gate will not be opened to-night." " Verily, porter," then said 
Kay, " my craft bring I with me." " What is thy craft ? " 
"The- best burnisher of swords am I in the world." "I will 
go and tell this unto Gwernach the Giant, and I will bring thee 
an answer." 

So the porter went in, and Gwernach said to him, " Hast 
thou news from the gate ? " "I have. There is a party at 
the door of the gate who desire to come in." " Didst thou 
inquire of them if they possessed any art ? " "I did inquire," 
said he, " and one told me that he was well skilled in the bur- 
nishing of swords." "We have need of him then. For some 
time have I sought for some one to polish my sword, and could 
find no one. Let this man enter, since he brings with him his 
craft." 

The porter thereupon returned and opened the gate. And 
Kay went in by himself, and he saluted Gwernach the Giant. 
And a chair was placed for him opposite to Gwernach. And 
Gwernach said to him, " O man, is it true that is reported of 
thee, that thou knowest how to burnish swords ? " "I know 
full well how to do so," answered Kay. Then was the sword 
of Gwernach brought to him. And Kay took a blue whet- 
stone from under his arm, and asked whether he would have it 
burnished white or blue. " Do with it as it seems good to thee, 
or as thou wouldst if it were thine own." Then Kay polished 
one half of the blade, and put it in his hand. "Will this 
please thee ? " asked he. " I would rather than all that is in 
my dominions that the whole of it were like this. It is a mar- 
vel to me that such a man as thou should be without a com- 
panion." " O noble sir, I have a companion, albeit he is not 
skilled in this art." " Who may he be ? " " Let the porter go 
forth, and I will tell him whereby he may know him. The 
head of his lance will leave its shaft, and draw blood from the 
wind, and will descend upon its shaft again." Then the gate 
was opened, and Bedwyr entered. And Kay said, " Bedwyr is 
very skilful, though he knows not this art." 

And there was much discourse among those who were with- 
out, because that Kay and Bedwyr had gone in. And a young 
man who was with them, the only son of the herdsman, got in 



KILWICH AXD OLWEN. 293 

also; and he contrived to admit all the rest, but they kept 
themselves concealed. 

The sword was now polished, and Kay gave it unto the hand 
of Gwernach the Giant, to see if he were pleased with his 
work. And the giant said, "The work is good ; I am content 
therewith." Said Kay, " It is thy scabbard that hath rusted 
thy sword : give it to me, that I may take out the wooden 
sides of it, and put in new ones." And he took the scabbard 
from him, and the sword in the other hand. And he came and 
stood over against the giant, as if he would have put the 
sword into the scabbard ; and with it he struck at the head of 
the giant, and cut off his head at one blow. Then they de- 
spoiled the castle, and took from it what goods and jewels 
they would. And they returned to Arthur's court, bearing 
with them the sword of Gwernach the Giant. 

And when they told Arthur how they had sped, Arthur 
said, " It is a good beginning." Then they took counsel, and 
said, " Which of these marvels will it be best for us to seek 
next ? " " It will be best," said one, " to seek Mabon, the son 
of Modron; and he will not be found unless we first find 
Eidoel, the son of Aer, his kinsman." Then Arthur rose up, 
and the warriors of the island of Britain with him, to seek for 
Eidoel ; and they proceeded until they came to the castle of 
Glivi, where Eidoel was imprisoned. Glivi stood on the sum- 
mit of his castle, and he said, "Arthur, what requirest thou of 
me, since nothing remains to me in this fortress, and I have 
neither joy nor pleasure in it, neither wheat nor oats? Seek 
not, therefore, to do me harm." Said Arthur, " Not to injure 
thee came I hither, but to seek for the prisoner that is with 
thee." "I will give thee my prisoner, though I had not 
thought to give him up to any one, and therewith shalt thou 
have my support and my aid." 

His followers said unto Arthur, "Lord, go thou home ; thou 
canst not proceed with thy host in quest of such small adven- 
tures as these." Then said Arthur, " It were well for thee, 
Gurhyr Gwalstat, to go upon this quest, for thou knowest all 
languages, and art familiar with those of the birds and the 
beasts. Thou, Eidoel, oughtest likewise to go with thv men 



294 THE MABINOGEON. 

in search of thy cousin. And as for you, Kay and Bedwyr, I 
have hope of whatever adventure ye are in quest of, that ye 
will achieve it. Achieve ye this adventure for me." 

They went forward until they came to the Ousel of Cilgwri. 
And Gurhyr adjured her, saying, "Tell me if thou knowest 
aught of Mabon, the son of Modron, who was taken when 
three nights old from between his mother and the wall?" 
And the Ousel answered, "When I first came here, there was 
a smith's anvil in this place, and I was then a young bird ; and 
from that time no work has been done upon it, save the peck- 
ing of my beak every evening; and now there is not so much 
as the size of a nut remaining thereof; yet during all that 
time I have never heard of the man for whom you inquire. 
Nevertheless, I will do that which it is fitting that I should for 
an embassy from Arthur. There is a race of animals who 
were formed before me, and I will be your guide to them." 

So they proceeded to the place where was the Stag of Red- 
ynvre. " Stag of Redynvre, behold, we are come tp thee, an 
embassy from Arthur, for we have not heard of any animal 
older than thou. Say, knowest thou aught of Mabon, the son 
of Modron, who was taken from his mother when three nights 
old ? " The Stag said, " When first I came hither there was a 
plain all around me, without any trees save one oak sapling, 
which grew up to be an oak with an hundred branches; and 
that oak has since j^erished, so that now nothing remains of it 
but the withered stump ; and from that day to this I have been 
here, yet have I never heard of the man for whom you inquire. 
Nevertheless, being an embassy from Arthur, I will be your 
guide to the place where there is an animal which was formed 
before I was, and the oldest animal in the world, and the one 
that has travelled most, the Eagle of Gwern Abwy." 

Gurhyr said, " Eagle of Gwern AbAvy, w^e have come to thee, 
an embassy from Arthur, to ask thee if thou knowest aught of 
Mabon, the son of Modron, who was taken from his mother 
when he was three nights old?" The Eagle said, "I have 
been here for a great space of time, and when I first came 
hither there was a rock here from the top of which I pecked at 



KILWICH AND OLAVEN. 295 

the stars every evening ; and it has crumbled away, and now 
it is not so much as a span high. All that time I have been 
here, and I have never heard of the man for whom you inquire, 
except once when I went in search of food as far as Llyn Lly w. 
And when I came there I struck my talons into a salmon, 
thinking he would serve me as food for a long time. But he 
drew me into the water, and I was scarcely able to escape from 
him. After that I made peace with him. And I drew fifty 
fish-spears out of his back, and relieved him. Unless he know 
something of him whom you seek I cannot tell who may. How- 
ever, I w411 guide you to the place where he is." 

So they went thither ; and the Eagle said, " Salmon of Llyn 
Llyw, I have come to thee with an embassy from Arthur, to 
ask thee if thou knowest aught of Mabon, the son of Modron, 
who was taken away at three nights old from his mother." 
"As much as I know I will tell thee. With every tide I go 
along the river upward, until I come near to the walls of Glou- 
cester, and there have I found such wrong as I never found 
elsewhere ; and to the end that ye may give credence thereto, 
let one of you go thither upon each of my two shoulders." 
So Kay and Gurhyr Gwalstat went upon the two shoul- 
ders of the Salmon, and they proceeded until they came 
unto the wall of the prison ; and they heard a great wailing 
and lamenting from the dungeon. Said Gurhyr, "Who is it 
that laments in this house of stone ? " "Alas ! it is Mabon, 
the son of Modron, who is here imprisoned ; and no imprison- 
ment was ever so grievous as mine." " Hast thou hope of 
being released for gold or for silver, or for any gifts of wealth, 
or through battle and fighting?" "By fighting will whatever 
I may gain be obtained." 

Then they went thence, and returned to Arthur, and they 
told him where Mabon, the son of Modron, was imprisoned. 
And Arthur summoned the warriors of the island, and they 
journeyed as far as Gloucester, to the place where Mabon w^as 
in prison. Kay and Bedwyr went upon the shoulders of the 
fish, whilst the warriors of Arthur attacked the castle. And 
Kay broke through the wall into the dungeon, and brought 



296 THE MABINOGEON. 

away the prisoner upon his back, whilst the fight was going on 
between the warriors. And Arthur returned home, and Ma- 
bon Avith him at liberty. 

On a certain day as Gurhyr Gwalstat was walking over a 
mountain he heard a wailing and a grievous cry. And when 
he heard it he sprung forward, and went towards it. And 
when he came there he saw a fire burning among the turf, and 
an ant-hill nearly surrounded with the fire. And he drew his 
sword, and smote off the ant-hill close to the earth, so that it 
escaped being burned in the fire. And the ants said to him, 
"Receive from us the blessing of Heaven, and that which no 
man can give we will give thee." Then they fetched the nine 
bushels of flaxseed which Yspadaden Penkawr had required of 
Kilwich, and they brought the full measure, without lacking 
any, save one flaxseed, and that the lame pismire brought in 
before night. 

Then said Arthur, "Which of the marvels will it be best for 
us to seek next ? " " It will be best to seek for the two cubs of 
the wolf Gast Rhymhi." 

"Is it known," said Arthur, "where she is?" "She is in 
Aber Cleddyf," said one. Then Arthur went to the house of 
Tringad, in Aber Cleddyf, and he inquired of him whether he 
had heard of her there. " She has often slain my herds, and 
she is there below in a cave of Aber Cleddyf." 

Then Arthur went in his ship Prydwen by sea, and the others 
went by land to hunt her. And they surrounded her and her 
two cubs, and took them, and carried them away. 

As Kay and Bedwyr sat on a beacon-cairn on tlie summit of 
Plinlimmon, in the highest wind that ever was, they looked 
around them and saw smoke afar off. Then said Kay, "By 
the hand of my friend, yonder is the fire of a robber." Then 
they hastened towards the smoke, and they came so near it 
that they could see Dillus Varwawc scorching a wild boar. 
" Behold, yonder is the greatest robber that ever fled from Ar- 
thur," said Bedwyr to Kay. " Dost thou know him ? " "I do 
know him," answered Kay; "he is Dillus Yarwawc, and no 
leash in the world will be able to hold the cubs of Gast Rliymhi 
save a leash made from the beard of him thou seest yonder. 



KILWICH AND OLWEN. 297 

And even that will be useless unless his beard be plucked out 
alive, with wooden tweezers; for if dead it will be brittle." 
*' What thinkest thou that we should do concernino; this ? " 
said Bedwyr. " Let us suffer him to eat as much as he will of 
the meat, and after that he will fall asleep." And during that 
time they employed themselves in making the wooden tweezers. 
And when Kay knew certainly that he was asleep, he made a 
pit under his feet, and he struck him a violent blow, and 
squeezed him into the pit. And there they twitched out his 
beard completely with the wooden tweezers, and after that they 
slew him altogether. And from thence they went, and took 
the leash made of Dillus Varwawc's beard, and they gave it 
into Arthur's hand. 

Thus they got all the marvels that Ysj^adaden Penkawr had 
required of Kilwich ; and they set forward, and took the mar- 
vels to his court. And Kilwich said to Yspadaden Penkawr, 
"Is thy daughter mine now?" " She is thine," said he, "but 
therefore needest thou not thank me, but Arthur, who hath 
accomplished this for thee." Then Goreu, the son of Custen- 
nin, the herdsman, whose brothers Yspadaden Penkawr had 
slain, seized him by the hair of his head, and dragged him after 
him to the keep, and cut off his head, and placed it on a stake 
in the citadel. Then they took possession of his castle, and of 
his treasures. And that night 01 wen became Kilwich' s bride, 
and she continued to be his wife as long as she lived. 




CHAPTER XXXI. 

PEREDUE, THE SON OF EYRAWC. 

ARTHUR was in Caerleon upon the Usk ; and he went to 
hunt, and Peredur* went with him. And Peredur let 
loose his dog upon a hart, and the dog killed the hart in a 
desert place. And a short space from him he saw signs of a 
dwelling, and towards the dwelling he went, and he beheld a 
hall, and at the door of the hall he found bold swarthy youths 
playing at chess. And when he entered he beheld three maid- 
ens sitting on a bench, and they were all clothed alike, as be- 
came persons of high rank. And he came and sat by them on 
the bench; and one of the maidens looked steadfastly at Pere- 
dur and wept. And Peredur asked her wherefore she was 
weeping. "Through grief that I should see so fair a youth as 
thou art slain." "Who will slay me ?" inquired Peredur. " If 
thou art so daring as to remain here to-night I will tell thee." 
" How great soever my danger may be from remaining here I 



* Peredur, the son of Evrawc, is the Welsh for Perceval, a part of whose story 
in the preceding pages is taken from the Mabinogeon. 
298 



PEREDUR, THE SON OF EVRAWC. 299 

will listen unto thee." " This palace is owned by him who is my 
father," said the maiden, " and he slays every one who comes 
hither without his leave." " What sort of a man is thy father 
that he is able to slay every one thus?" "A man who does 
violence and wrong unto his neighbors, and who renders justice 
unto none." And hereupon he saw the youths arise and clear 
the chessmen from the board. And he heard a great tumult ; 
and after the tumult there came in a huge black one-eyed man, 
and the maidens arose to meet him. And they disarrayed him, 
and he went and sat down ; and after he had rested and pon- 
dered awhile, he looked at Peredur, and asked who the knight 
was. "Lord," said one of the maidens, "he is the fairest and 
gentlest youth that ever thou didst see. And for the sake of 
Heaven, and thine owil dignity, have patience w^ith him." 
" For thy sake I will have patience, and I will grant him his 
life this night." Then Peredur came towards them to the fire, 
and partook of food and liquor, and entered into discourse 
with the ladies. And being elated wdth the liquor, he said to 
the black man, " It is a marvel to me, so mighty as thou sayest 
thou art, who could have put out thine eye ? " " It is one of 
my habits," said the black man, " that whosoever puts to me 
the question which thou hast asked shall not escape with his 
life, either as a free gift, or for a price." " Lord," said the 
maiden, " whatsoever he may say to thee in jest, and through 
the excitement of liquor, make good that which thou saidest 
and didst promise me just now." "I will do so, gladly, for 
thy sake," said he. " Willingly Avill I grant him his life this 
night." And that night thus they remained. 

And the next day the black man got up and put on his 
armor, and said to Peredur, "Arise, man, and suffer deatli." 
And Peredur said unto him, "Do one of two things, black 
man ; if thou wilt fight with me, either throw off thy own 
armor, or give arms to me, that I may encounter thee." " Ha ! 
man," said he, "couldst thou fight if .thou hadst arms? Take 
then what arms thou dost choose." And thereupon the maiden 
came to Peredur with such arms as pleased him ; and he fought 
with the black man and forced him to crave his mercy. " Black 
man, thou shalt have mercy, provided thou tell me who thou 



300 THE MABINOGEON. 

art, and who put out thine eye." "Lord, I will tell thee. I 
lost it in fighting with the Black Serj^ent of the Cam. There 
is a mound which is called the Mound of Mourning ; and on 
the mound there is a earn, and in the earn there is a serjDent, 
and on the tail of the serpent there is a stone, and the virtues 
of the stone are such that whosoever should hold it in one 
hand, in the other he will have as much gold as he may desire. 
And in fighting with this serpent was it that I lost my eye. 
And the Black Oppressor am I called. And for this reason I 
am called the Black Oppressor, that there is not a single man 
around me whom I have not opj^ressed, and justice have I done 
unto none." " Tell me," said Peredur, " how far is it hence ? " 
" The same day that thou settest forth thou wilt come to the 
Palace of the Sons of the King of the Tortures." "Where- 
fore are they called thus?" The Addanc* of the Lake slays 
them once every day. When thou goest thence thou wilt come 
to the Court of the Countess of Achievements." "What 
achievements are these ?" said Peredur. " Three hundred men 
are there in her household, and unto every stranger that comes 
to the Court the achievements of her household are related. 
And this is the manner of it, — the three hundred men of the 
household sit next unto the Lady ; and that not through disre- 
spect unto the guests, but that they may relate the achievements 
of the household. And the day that thou goest there thou 
wilt reach the Mound of Mourning, and round about the mound 
tliere are the owners of three hundred tents guarding the ser- 
pent." " Since thou hast indeed been an oppressor so long," 
said Peredur, " I will cause that thou continue so no longer." 
So he slew him. 

Then the maiden spoke, and began to converse with him. " If 
thou wast j30or when thou earnest here henceforth thou wilt be 
rich through the treasure ' the black man whom thou hast slain. 
Thou seest the many lovely maidens that there are in this court, 
thou shalt have her whom thou likest best for the lady of thy 
love." " Lady, I came not hither froin my country to woo; 
but match yourselves as it liketh you with the comely youths 
I see here ; and none of your goods do I desire, for I need them 
* The Addanc was a mighty aquatic monster. 



PEREDUR, THE SON OF EVRAWC. 301 

not." Then Peredur rode forward, and he came to the Palace 
of the Sons of the Kmg of the Tortures ; and when he entered 
the palace he saw none but women ; and they rose ujj and Avere 
joyful at his coming ; and as they began to discourse with him 
he beheld a charger arrive, with a saddle upon it, and a corpse 
in the saddle. And one of the women arose, and took the 
corpse from the saddle and anointed it in a vessel of warm 
water, which was below the door, and placed precious balsam 
upon it; and the man rose up alive, and came to the place 
where Peredur was, and greeted him, and was joyful to see 
him. And two other men came in uj^on their saddles, and the 
maiden treated these two in the same manner as she had done 
the first. Then Peredur asked the chieftain wherefore it was 
thus. And they told him there was an Addanc in a cave, 
which slew them once every day. And thus they remained one 
night. 

And next morning the youths arose to sally forth, and Pere- 
dur besought them, for the sake of the ladies of their love, to 
permit him to go with them ; but they refused him, saying, " If 
thou shouldst be slain thou hast none to bring thee back to life 
again." And they rode forward and Peredur followed after 
them ; and after they had disappeared out of his sight he came 
to a mound, whereon sat the fairest lady he had ever beheld. 
" I know thy quest," said she ; " thou art going to encounter 
the Addanc, and he will slay thee, and that not by courage but 
by craft. He has a cave, and at the entrance of the cave there 
is a stone pillar, and he sees every one that enters, and none 
see him ; and from behind the pillar he slays every one with a 
poisonous dart. And if thou wouldst pledge me thy faith, to love 
me above all women, I would give thee a stone, by which thou 
shouldst see him when thou goest in, and he should not see 
thee." "I will, by my faith," said '^ "edur, "for when first I 
beheld thee I loved thee ; and wliere shall I seek thee ? " 
" When thou seekest me seek towards India." And the maiden 
vanished after placing the stone in Peredur's hand. 

And he came towards a valley, through which ran a river; 
and the borders of the valley were wooded, and on each side 
of the river were level meadows. And on one side of the river 



302 THE MABINOGEON. 

he saw a flock of white sheej^, and on the other side a flock of 
black sheep. And whenever one of the white sheep bleated 
one of the black sheep would cross over and become white ; 
and when one of the black sheep bleated one of the white 
sheep would cross over and become black. And he saw a tall 
tree by the side of the river, one-half of which was in flames 
from the root to the top, and the other half was green and in 
full leaf. And nigh thereto he saw a youth sitting upon a 
mound, and two greyhounds, white-breasted and spotted, in 
leashes, lying by his side. And certain was he that he liad 
never seen a youth of so royal a bearing as lie. And in the 
wood opposite he heard hounds raising a herd of deer. And 
Peredur saluted the youth, and the youth greeted him in 
return. And there were three roads leading from the mound ; 
two of them were wide roads and the third was more narrow. 
And Peredur inquired where the three roads went. " One of 
them goes to my palace," said the youth. "And one of two 
things I counsel thee to do, eitlier to ju'oceed to my palace, 
which is before thee, and whei'e thou wilt And my wife, or else 
to remain here to see the hounds cliasing the roused deer from 
the wood to the plain. And thou shalt see the best greyhounds 
thou didst ever behold, and the boldest in the chase, kill them 
by the water beside us ; and when it is time to go to meat my 
page will come with my horse to meet me, and thou shalt rest 
in my palace to-night." " Heaven reward thee ; but I cannot 
tarry, and onward must I go." " The other road leads to the 
town, which is near here, wherein food and liquor may be 
bought ; and the road which is narrower tlian the other goes 
towards the cave of tlie Addanc." "With thy permission, 
young man, I will go that way." 

And Peredur went towards the cave. And he took the 
stone in his left hand, and his lance in his right. And as lie 
went in he perceived the Addanc, and he pierced him through 
with his lance, and cut off his head. And as he came fortli 
from the cave, behold the three companions were at the en- 
trance ; and they saluted Peredur, and told him that there was 
a prediction that he should slay the monster. 

And Peredur gave the head to the young man, and they 



PEREDUR, THE SON OF EVRAWC. 303 

offered him in marriage whichever of the three sisters he 
might choose, and half their kingdom with her. "I came not 
hither to woo," said Peredur, "but if perad venture I took a 
wife, I should prefer your sister to all others." And Peredur 
rode forward, and he heard a noise behind him. And he 
looked back, and saw a man upon a red horse, and red armor 
upon him ; and the man rode up by his side, and wished him 
the favor of Heaven and of man. And Peredur greeted the 
youth kindly. " Lord, I come to make a request unto thee." 
" What w^ouldst thou? " " That thou shouldst take me as thy 
attendant." " Who should I take as my attendant if I did 
so?" "I will not conceal from thee vrhat kindred 1 am of. 
Etlym Gleddyv Coch am I called, an Earl from the East 
Country." "I marvel that thou shouldst offer to become 
attendant to a man whose possessions are no greater than thine 
own ; for I have but an earldom like thyself. But now thou 
desirest to be my attendant, I will take thee joyfully." 

And they went forward to the Court of the Countess, and 
all they of the Court were glad at their coming; and they 
were told it was not through disrespect they were jDlaced below 
the household, but that such was the usage of the Court. For 
whoever should overthrow the three hundred men of her 
household would sit next the Countess, and she would love 
him above all other men. And Peredur, having overthrown 
the three hundred of her household, sat down beside her, and 
the Countess said, "I thank Heaven that I have a youth so 
fair and so radiant as thou, since I have not obtained the man 
whom best I love." " Whom is he whom best thou lovest ? 
By my faith, Etlym Gleddyv Coch is the man whom I love 
best, and I have never seen him." "Of a truth, Etlym is my 
companion ; and behold here he is, and for his sake did I come 
to joust with thy household. And he would have done so 
better than I had it pleased him." " Heaven reward thee, fair 
youth, and I will take the man whom I love above all others." 
And the Countess became Etlym's bride from that moment. 

And the next day Peredur set forth toward the Mound of 
Mourning. " By thy hand, lord, but I will go with thee," said 
Etlym. Then they went forward till they came in sight of 



304 THE MABINOGEON. 

the mound and the forts. " Go unto yonder men," said Per- 
edur to Etlym, "and desire them to come and do me homage." 
So Etlym went unto them, and said unto them thus : " Come 
and do homage to my lord." "Who is thy lord ?" said they. 
" Peredur, with the long lance, is my lord," said Etlym. 
" Were it permitted to slay a messenger, thou shouldst not go 
back to thy lord alive, for making unto kings and earls and 
barons so arrogant a demand as to go and do him homage." 
On this Peredur desired him to go back to them, and to give 
them their choice, either to do him homage or to do battle 
with him. And they chose rather to do battle. And that day 
Peredur overthrew the owners of a hundred tents. And the 
next day he overthrew the owners of a hundred more; and 
the third day the remaining third took counsel to do homage 
to Peredur. And Peredur inquired of them wherefore they 
were there. And they told him they were guarding the ser- 
pent until he should die. " For then should we fight for the 
stone among ourselves, and whoever should be conqueror 
among us would have the stone." " Wait here," said Peredur, 
" and I will go to encounter the serpent." " No, no, lord," 
said they ; " we will go all together to encounter the serpent." 
" Yerily," said Peredur, " that will I not permit ; for if the 
serpent be slain, I shall derive no more fame therefrom than 
one of you." Then he went to the place where the serpent 
was, and slew it, and came back to them, and said, " Reckon 
up what you have spent since you have been here, and I will 
repay you to the full." And he paid to each w^hat he said was 
his claim. And he required of them only that they should 
acknowledge themselves his vassals. And he said to Etlym, 
"Go back unto her whom thou lovest best, and I will go for- 
wards, and I will reward thee for having been my attendant." 
And he gave Etlym the stone. "Heaven repay thee and pros- 
per thee," said Etlym. 

And Peredur rode thence, and he came to the fairest valley 
he had ever seen, through which ran a river ; and there he 
beheld many tents of various colors. And he marvelled still 
more at the number of windmills and of water-mills that he 
saw. And there rode up with him a tall, auburn-haired man, 



PEREDUK, THE SON OF EVKAWC. 305 

in a workman's garb, and Peredur inquired of him who he 
was. " I am the chief miller," said he, " of all the mills yon- 
der." "Wilt thou give me lodging?" said Peredur. "I will, 
gladly," he answered. And Peredur came to the miller's 
house, and the miller had a fair and pleasant dwelling. And 
Peredur asked money as a loan from the miller, that he might 
buy meat and liquor for himself, and for the household, and he 
promised him tliat he would pay him ere he went thence. 
And he inquired of the miller wherefore such a multitude 
were there assembled. Said the miller to Peredur, " One 
thing is certain ; either thou art a man from afar, or thou art 
beside thyself. The Emj^-ress of Cristonobyl the Great is 
here ; and she will have no one but the man who is most val- 
iant ; for riches she does not require. And it was impossible 
to bring food for so many thousands as are here, therefore 
were all these mills constructed." And that night they took 
their rest. 

And the next day Peredur arose, and he equipped himself 
and his horse for the tournament. And among other tents he 
beheld one which was the fairest he had ever seen. And saw 
a beauteous maiden leaning her head out of a window of a 
tent, and he had never seen a maiden more lovely than she. 
And upon her was a garment of satin. And he gazed fixedly 
on the maiden and began to love her greatly. And he remained 
there, gazing upon the maiden from morning until midday, 
and from midday until evening ; and then the tournament was 
ended ; and he went to his lodging and drew off his armor. 
Then he asked money of the miller as a loan, and the miller's 
wife was wroth with Peredur ; nevertheless the miller lent him 
the money. And tlie next day he did in like manner as he had 
done the day before. And at night he came to his lodging, and 
took money as a loan from the miller. And* the third day, as 
he was in the same place, gazing upon the maiden, he felt a 
hard blow between the neck and the shoulder from the edge of 
an axe. And when he looked behind he saw that it was the 
miller ; and the miller said unto him, " Do one of two things : 
either turn thy head from hence or go to the tournament." 
And Peredur smiled on the miller, and went to the tourna- 



306 THE MABINOGEON. 

ment ; and all that encountered him that day he overthrew. 
And as many as he vanquished he sent as a gift to the Em- 
press, and their horses and arms he sent as a gift to the wife 
of the miller, in payment of the borrowed money. And the 
Empress sent to the Knight of the Mill, to ask him to come 
and visit her. And Peredur went not for the first nor for the 
second message. And the third time she sent one hundred 
knights to bring him against his will, and they went to him, 
and told him their mission from the Empress. And Peredur 
fought well with them, and caused them to be bound like stags, 
and thrown into the mill dyke. And the Empress sought ad- 
vice of a wise man. " With thy permission, I will go to him 
myself." So he came to Peredur and besought him, for the sake 
of the lady of his love, to come and visit the Empress. And 
they went together with the miller. And Peredur went and 
sat down in the outer chamber of the tent, and she came and 
placed herself at his side. And there was but little discourse 
between them. And Peredur took his leave and went to his 
lodsfins^. 

And the next day he came to visit her, and when he came 
into the tent there was no one chamber less decorated than the 
others. And they knew not where he would sit. And Pere- 
dur went and sat beside the Empress, and discoursed with her 
courteously. And while they were there they beheld a black 
man enter with a goblet full of wine in his hand. And he 
dropped upon his knee before the Empress, and besought her 
to give it to no one who would not fight him for it. And she 
looked upon Peredur. "Lady," said he, " bestow upon me the 
goblet." And Peredur drank the wine, and gave the goblet to 
the miller's wife. And while they were thus, behold there en- 
tered a black man, of larger stature than the other, with a wild 
beast's claw in his hand, wrought into the form of a goblet, 
and filled with wine. And he presented it to the Empress, 
and besought her to give it to no one but the man who would 
fight with him. "Lady," said Peredur, "bestow it upon me." 
And she gave it to him. And Peredur drank tlie wine, and 
sent the goblet to the wife of the miller. And when they were 
thus, behold a rough-looking crisp-haired man, taller than either 



PEREDUR, THE SON OF EVRAWC. 307 

of the others, came in with a bowl in his hands full of wine ; 
and he bent upon his knee, and gave it into the hands of the 
Empress, and he besought her to give it to none but him who 
would fight with him for it ; and she gave it to Peredur, and 
he sent it to the miller's wife. And that night Peredur returned 
to his lodging ; and the next day he accoutred himself and his 
horse, and went to the meadow, and slew the three men. Then 
Peredur proceeded to the tent, and the Empress said to him, 
" Goodly Peredur, remember the faith thou didst pledge me 
when I gave thee the stone, and thou didst kill the Addanc." 
"Lady," answered he, "thou sayest truth, I do remember it." 
For she was the maiden who had been sitting on the mound 
when Peredur had gone in search of the Addanc. 




CHAPTER XXXII, 

TALIESIN. 

GWYDDNO GARANHIR was sovereign of Gwaelod, a 
territory bordering on the sea. And he possessed a weir 
upon the strand between Dyvi and Aberystwyth, near to his 
own castle, and the value of an hundred ])ounds was taken in 
that weir every May eve. And Gwyddno had an only son 
named Elpliin, the most helpless of youths, and the most needy. 
And it grieved his father sore, for he thought he was born in 
an evil hour. By the advice of his council his father had 
granted him the drawing of the weir that year, to see if good 
luck would ever befall him, and to give him something where- 
with to begin the world. And this was on the twenty-ninth of 
April. 

The next day, when Elphin went to look, there was notliing 
in the weir but a leather bag upon a pole of the weir. Then 
said the weir-ward unto Elpliin, "All thy ill-luck aforetime was 
nothing to this ; and now thou hast destroyed the virtues of 
the weir, which always yielded the value of an hundred pounds 



TALIESIN. 309 

every May eve ; and to-night there is nothing but this leathern 
skin in it." " How now," said Elphin, " there may be therein 
the vahie of a hundred pounds." Well ! they took up the 
leathern bag, and he who opened it saw the forehead of an in- 
fant, the fairest that was ever seen; and he said, "Behold a 
radiant brow ! " (in the Welsh language, taliesin:) " Taliesin 
be he called," said Elphin. And he lifted the bag in his arms, 
and, lamenting his bad luck, placed the boy sorrowfully behind 
him. And he made his horse amble gently, that before had 
been trotting, and he carried him as softly as if he had been 
sitting in the easiest chair in the world. And presently the 
boy made a Consolation and praise to Elphin ; and the Conso- 
lation was as you may here see : — 

"Fair Elphin, cease to lament! 
Never in Gwyddno's Aveir 
Was there such good luck as this night. 
Being sad will not avail ; 
Better to trust in God than to forebode ill ; 
Weak and small as I am, 
On the foaming beach of the ocean, 
In the day of trouble I shall be 
Of more service to thee than three hundred salmon." 

This was the first poem that Taliesin ever sung, being to 
console Elphin in his grief for that the produce of the weir 
was lost, and, what was worse, that all the world would con- 
sider that it was through his fault and ill-luck. Then Elphin 
asked him what he was, whether man or spirit. And he sung 
thus : — 

" I have been formed a comely person ; 

Although I am but little, I am highly gifted ; 

Into a dark leathern bag I was thrown, 

And on a boundless sea I was set adrift. 

From seas and from mountains 

God brings wealth to the fortunate man." 

Then came Elphin to the house of Gwyddno, his father, and 
Taliesin with him. Gwyddno asked him if he had had a good 
haul at the weir, and he told him that he had got that which 
was better than fish. " What was that?" said Gwyddno. "A 
bard," said Elphin. Then said Gwyddno, "Alas ! what will he 



310 THE MABINOGEON. 

profit thee ? " And Taliesin himself replied and said, " He will 
profit him more than the weir ever profited thee." Asked 
Gwyddno, "Art thou able to speak, and thou so little ? " And 
Taliesin answered him, "I am better able to speak than thou 
to question me." "Let me hear what thou canst say," quoth 
Gwyddno. Then Taliesin sang : — 

" Three times have I been boru, I know hj meditation ; 
All the sciences of the world are collected in my breast, 
For I know what has been, and what hereafter will occur." 

Elphin gave his haul to his wife, and she nursed him tenderly 
and lovingly. Thenceforward Elphin increased in riches more 
and more, day by day, and in love and favor with the king ; 
and there abode Taliesin until he was thirteen years old, when 
Elphin, son of Gwyddno, went by a Christmas invitation to 
liis uncle, Maelgan Gwynedd, who held open court at Christ- 
mas-tide in the castle of Dyganwy, for all the number of lords 
of both degrees, both spiritual and temporal, with a vast and 
thronged host of knights and squires. And one arose and said, 
" Is there in the whole world a king so great as Maelgan, or 
one on whom Heaven has bestowed so many gifts as upon him, 
— form, and beauty, and meekness, and strength, besides all 
the powers of the soul ? " And together with these they said 
that Heaven had given one gift that exceeded all the others, 
which was the beauty, and grace, and wisdom, and modesty of 
his queen, whose virtues surj^assed those of all the ladies and 
noble maidens throughout the whole kingdom. And with this 
they put questions one to another. Who had braver men? 
Who had fairer or swifter horses or greyhounds ? Who had 
more skilful or wiser bards than Maelgan ? 

When they had all made an end of their praising the king 
and his gifts, it befell that Elphin spoke on this wise : " Of a 
truth, none but a king may vie with a king ; but were he not a 
king, I would say that my wife was as virtuous as any lady in 
the kingdom, and also that I have a bard who is more skilful 
than all the king's bards." In a short space some of his fel- 
lows told the king all the boastings of Elphin ; and the king 
ordered him to be thrown into a strong prison until he might 



TALIESIN. 311 

show the truth as to the virtues of his wife and the wisdom of 
his bard. 

Now when Elphin had been put in a tower of the castle with 
a thick chain about his feet (it is said that it was a silver chain, 
as he was of royal blood), the king, as the story relates, sent 
his son Rhun to inquire into the demeanor of Elphin's wife. 
Now jRhun was the most graceless man in the world, and there 
was neither wife nor maiden with whom he held converse but 
was evil spoken of. While Rhun went in haste towards El- 
phin's dwelling, being fully minded to bring disgrace upon his 
wife, Taliesin told his mistress how that the king had placed 
his master in durance in prison, and how that Rhun was com- 
ing in haste to strive to bring disgrace upon her. Wherefore 
he caused his mistress to array one of the maids of the kitchen 
in her apparel; which the noble lady gladly did, and she 
loaded her hands with the best rings that she and her husband 
possessed. 

In this guise Taliesin caused his mistress to put the maiden 
to sit at the board in her room at supper ; and he made her to 
seem as her mistress, and the mistress to seem as the maid. And 
when they were in due time seated at their supper, in the manner 
that has been said, Rhun suddenly arrived at Elphin's dwell- 
ing, and was received with joy, for the servants knew him ; and 
they brought him to the room of their mistress, in the sem- 
blance of whom the maid rose up from supper and welcomed 
him gladly. And afterwards she sat down to supper again, and 
Rhun with her. Then Rhun began jesting with the maid, who 
still kept the semblance of the mistress. And verily this story 
shows that the maiden became so intoxicated that she fell 
asleep ; and the story relates that it was a powder that Rhun 
put into the drink that made her sleep so soundly that she never 
felt it when he cut off from her hand her little finger, whereon 
was the signet ring of Elphin, which he had sent to his wife as 
a token a short time before. And Rhun returned to the king 
with the finger and the ring as a proof, to show that he had cut 
it off from her hand without her awaking from her sleep of 
intemperance. 

The king rejoiced greatly at these tidings, and he sent for 



312 THE MABINOGEON. 

his councillors, to whom he told the whole story from the be- 
ginning. And he caused Elphin to be brought out of prison, 
and he chided him because of his boast. And he spake on 
this wise : "Elphin, be it known to thee beyond a doubt, tliat 
it is but folly for a man to trust in the virtues of his wife f ur- 
tlier than he can see her ; and that thou mayest be certain of 
thy wife's vileness, behold her finger, with thy signet ring 
upon it, which was cut from her hand last night, while she 
slept the sleep of intoxication." Then thus spake Elphin : 
"With thy leave, mighty king, I cannot deny my ring, for it is 
known of many ; but verily I assert that the finger around 
which it is was never attached to the liand of mj Avife ; for in 
truth and certainty there are three notable things pertaining 
to it, none of which ever belonged to any of my wife's fingers. 
The first of tlie three is, that it is certainly known to me that 
this ring would never remain upon her thumb, whereas you 
can plainly see that it is hard to draw it ever the joint of the 
little finger of the hand whence this was cut. The second 
thing is, that my wife has never let pass one Saturday since I 
have known her, without paring her nails before going to bed, 
and you can see fully that the nail of this little finger has not 
been pared for a month. The third is, truly, that the hand 
whence this finger came was kneading rye dough within three 
days before the finger was cut therefrom, and I can assure 
your highness that my wife has never kneaded rye dough 
since my wife she has been." 

The king was mightily wroth with Elphin for so stoutly 
withstanding him, respecting the goodness of his wife ; where- 
fore he ordered him to his prison a second time, saying that 
he should not be loosed thence until he had proved the truth 
of his boast, as well concerning the wisdom of his bard as the 
virtues of his wife. 

In the mean time his wife and Taliesin remained joyful at 
Elphin's dwelling. And Taliesin showed his mistress how that 
Elphin was in prison because of them ; but he bade her be 
glad, for that he would go to Maelgan's court to free his mas- 
ter. So he took leave of his mistress, and came to the court 
of Maelgan, who was going to sit in his hall, and dine in his 



TALIESIN. . 313 

royal state, as it was the custom in those days for kings and 
princes to do at every chief feast. As soon as Taliesin entered 
the hall, he placed himself in a quiet corner, near the place 
where the bards and the minstrels were wont to come, in doing 
their service and duty to the king, as is the custom at the high 
festivals, when the bounty is proclaimed. So, when the bards 
and the heralds came to cry largess, and to proclaim the power 
of the king, and his strength, at the moment when they j^assed 
by the corner wherein he was crouching, Taliesin pouted out 
his lips after them, and played, " Blerwm, blerwm ! " with his 
finger upon his lips. ISTeither took they much notice of him 
as they went by, but j^roceeded forward till they came before 
the king, unto whom they made their obeisance with their 
bodies, as they were wont, without speaking a single word, but 
pouting out their lips, and making mouths at the king, playing 
" Blerwm, blerwm ! " upon their lips with their fingers, as they 
had seen the boy do. This sight caused the king to wonder, 
and to deem within himself that they were drunk with many 
liquors. Wherefore he commanded one of his lords, who 
served at the board, to go to them and desire them to collect 
their wits, and to consider where they stood, and Avhat it was 
fitting for them to do. And this lord did so gladly. But they 
ceased not from tlieir folly any more than before. Whereupon 
he sent to them a second time, and a third, desiring them to 
go forth from the hall. At the last tlie king ordered one of 
his squires to give a blow to the chief of them, named Heinin 
Vardd ; and the squire took a broom and struck him on the 
head, so that he fell back in his seat. Then he arose, and went 
on his knees, and besous^ht leave of the kino-'s o-race to show 
that this their fault was not through want of knowledge, 
neither through drunkenness, but by the influence of some 
spirit that was in the hall. And he spoke on this wise : " O 
honorable king, be it known to your grace that not from the 
strength of drink, or of too much liquor, are we dumb, but 
through the influence of a spirit that sits in the corner yonder, 
in the form of a child." Forthwith the king commanded the 
squire to fetch him ; and he went to the nook where Taliesin 
sat, and brought him before the king, wJio asked him what he 



314 THE MABINOGEON. 

was, and whence he came. And he answered the king in 
verse : — 

" Primary chief bard am I to Elphiu, 
And my native country is the region of the summer stars ; 
I have been in Asia with Noah in the ark, 
I have seen the destruction of Sodom and Gomorrah, 
I was in India when Eome was built, 
I have now come here to the remnant of Troia." 

When the king and his nobles had heard the song, they 
wondered much, for they had never heard the like from a boy 
so young as he. And when the king knew that he was the 
bard of Elphin, he bade Heinin, his first and wisest bard, to 
answer Taliesin, and to strive with him. But when he came, 
he could do no other than play " Blerwm ! " on his lips ; and 
when he sent for the others of the four and twenty bards, 
they all did likewise, and could do no other. And Maelgan 
asked the boy Taliesin what was his errand, and he answered 
him in song : — 

"Elphin, the son of Gwyddno, 

Is in tbe land of Artro, 

Secured by thirteen locks, 

For praising his instructor. 

Therefore I, Taliesin, 

Chief of the bards of the west, 

Will loosen Elphin 

Out of a golden fetter." 

Then he sang to them a riddle : — 

" Discover thou what is 
The strong creature from before the flood, 
Without flesh, without bone. 
Without vein, without blood. 
Without head, without feet ; 
It will neitlier be older nor younger 
Than at the beginning. 
Behold how the sea whitens 
When first it comes, 
When it comes from the south. 
When it strikes on coasts. 
It is in the field, it is in the wood, 
But the eye cannot perceive it. 
One Being has prepared it. 
By a tremendous blast. 
To wreak vengeance 
On Maelgan Gwynedd." 



TALIESIN. 315 

While he was thus singing his verse, there arose a mighty 
storm of wind, so that the king and all his nobles thouglit that 
the castle would fall upon their heads. And the king caused 
them to fetch Elphin in haste from his dungeon, and placed 
him before Taliesin. And it is said that immediately he sung 
a verse, so that the chains opened from about his feet. 

After that Taliesin brought Elphin's wife before them, and 
sliowed that she had not one finger wanting. And in this 
manner did he set his master free from prison, and protect the 
innocence of his mistress, and silence the bards so that not 
one of them dared to say a word. Right glad was Elphin, 
right glad was Taliesin. 



THE AGE OF CHIVALRY. 



PART III. 
THE MIGHTS OF ENGLISH HISTORY, 




CHAPTER XXXIII. 

KING KICHARD AND THE THIRD CRUSADE. 

THE Crusades were the mightiest or rather the most ambi- 
tions undertaking of the chivalry of Europe. From the 
year 1096 for more than a century the knights of all countries 
looked to the Holy Land as a field for winning their spurs and 
obtaining pardon of their sins. And it is most natural that in 
giving a picture of English chivalry as it is shown in history 
that we should give a description of King Richard's exploits 
in Palestine. 

In the last decade of the twelfth century Richard I. of Eng- 
land took the cross, which had come to him as a sort of legacy 
from his father, and sailed for Antioch, which was being be- 
sieged by the Christians, to assist in the war in the Holy Land. 
At the same time Philip Augustus of France and Frederick 
Barbarossa joined the Crusaders. Frederick was drowned in a 
river of Cilicia, and his force had so dwindled that when they 
reached Antioch hardly a tenth of the number were left that 
had started. Philip of France reached Antioch with his army, 
and there, as we shall learn later, he fought with the Turk and 
quarrelled with the Christian for a time, until he finally set sail 
for France without having accomplished the capture of the 

319 



320 THE KNIGHTS OF ENGLISH HISTORY. 

Holy City. As for Richard, he was not more successful, and 
although his deeds were so glorious as to cover him with 
honor, he was obliged to return home, leaving Jerusalem still 
in the hands of infidels. 



The Exploits of King Richard. 

Now as the ships were j^roceeding, some being before others, 
two of the three first, driven by the violence of the winds, 
were broken on the rocks near the port of Cyprus ; the third, 
which was English, more speedy than they, having turned back 
into the deep, escaped the peril. Almost all the men of both 
ships got away alive to land, many of whom the hostile Cypri- 
otes slew, some they took captive, some, taking refuge in a 
certain church, were besieged. Whatever also in the ships was 
cast up by the sea fell a prey to the Cypriotes. The prince 
also of that island coming up, received for his share the gold 
and the arms ; and he caused the shore to be guarded by all 
the armed force he could summon together, that he might not 
permit the fleet which followed to approach, lest the king 
should take again what had been tlius stolen from him. Above 
the port was a strong city, and upon a natural rock, a high and 
fortified castle. The wliole of that nation was warlike and ac- 
customed to live by theft. Tliey placed beams and planks at 
tlie entrance of the port, across the passage, the gates, and en- 
trances ; and the wliole land with one mind prepared them- 
selves for a conflict with the English. God so willed that the 
cursed people should receive the reward of their evil deeds by 
the hands of one who w^ould not sj^are. The third English 
ship, in which were the women, having cast out their anchors, 
rode out at sea, and watched all things from opposite, to report 
the misfortunes to the king,* lest haply, being ignorant of the 
loss and disgrace, he should pass the place unavenged. The 
next line of the king's ships came up after the other, and they 
are stopped at the first. A full report reached the king, who, 
sending heralds to the lord of the island, and obtaining no sat- 
isfaction, commanded his entire army to arm, from the first 

* Richard I. of En"land. 



KING RICHARD AND THE THIRD CRUSADE. 321 

even to the last, and to get out of the great ships into the gal- 
leys and boats, and follow him to the shore. What he com- 
manded was immediately j^erformed ; they came in arms to the 
port. The king being armed, leaped first from the galley, and 
gave the first blow in the war ; but before he was able to strike 
a second he had three thousand of his followers with him striking 
away at his side. All the timber tha* had been placed as a 
barricade in the port was cast down instantly, and the brave 
fellows went up into the city as ferocious as lionesses are wont to 
be when robbed of their young. The fight was carried on 
manfully against them, numbers fell wounded on both sides, 
and the swords of both parties were made drunk with blood. 
The Cypriotes are vanquished, the city is taken, with the cas- 
tle besides ; whatever the victors choose is ransacked ; and the 
lord of the island is himself taken and brouo-ht to the kino-. 
He being taken, supplicates and obtains pardon ; he offers hom- 
age to the king, and it is received ; and he swears, though un- 
asked, that henceforth he will hold the island of him as his 
liege lord, and will open all the castles of the land to him, and 
make satisfaction for the damage already done; and further 
bring presents of his own. On being dismissed after the oath, 
he is commanded to fulfil the conditions in the morning. 

That night the king remained peaceably in the castle; and 
his newly-sworn vassal, flying, retired to another castle, and 
caused the whole of the men of the land, who were able to 
bear arms, to be summoned to repair to him, and so they did. 
The king of Jerusalem, however, that same night landed in 
Cyprus, that he might assist the king and salute him, whose 
arrival he had desired above that of any other in the whole 
world. On the morrow the lord of Cyprus was sought for and 
found to have fled. The king seeing that he was abused, and 
having been informed where he was, directed the king of Jeru- 
salem to follow the traitor by land with the best of the army, 
while he conducted the other part by water, intending to be 
in the way that he might not escape by sea. The divisions reas- 
sembled around the city in which he- had taken refuge, and he, 
having sallied out against the king, fought with the English, 
and the battle was carried on sharply by both sides. The Eng- 



322 THE KNIGHTS OF ENGLISH HISTORY. 

lish would that day have been beaten had they not fought 
under the command of King Richard. They at length obtained 
a dear-bought victory, the Cypriote flies, and the castle is taken. 
The kings pursue him as before, the one by land and the other 
by water, and he is besieged in the third castle. Its walls are 
cast down by engines hurling huge stones ; he, being overcome, 
promises to surrender, if only he might not be put in iron fet- 
ters. The king consents to the j^rayers of the supplicant, and 
caused silver shackles to be made for him. The prince of tlie 
pirates being thus taken, the king traversed the whole island^ 
and took all its castles, and jjlaced his constables in each, and 
constituted justiciaries and sheriffs, and the whole land was 
subjected to him in everything just like England. The gold, 
and the silks and the jewels from the treasuries that were 
broken open, he retained for himself ; the silver and victuals he 
gave to the army. To the king of Jerusalem also he made a 
handsome present out of the booty. 

The king proceeding thence, came to the siege of Acre, and 
was welcomed by the besiegers Avith as great a joy as if it had 
been Christ that had come aoain on earth to restore the kino;- 
dom of Israel. The king of the French had arrived at Acre 
first, and was very highly esteemed by the natives; but on 
Richard's arrival he became obscured and without considera- 
tion, just as the moon is wont to relinquish her lustre at the 
rising of the sun. 

The king of the English, unused to delay, on tlie third day 
of his arrival at the siege, caused liis wooden fortress, wliich 
he had called "Mate Grifun," when it was made in Sicily, to 
be built and set up, and before the dawn of the fourtli day 
the machine stood erect by the walls of Acre, and from its 
height looked down upon the city lying beneath it ; and tliere 
were thereon by sunrise archers casting missiles without inter- 
mission on the Turks and Thracians. Engines also for casting 
stones, placed in convenient positions, battered the walls with 
frequent volleys. More important tlian these, the sappers, 
making themselves a way beneath tlie ground, undermined the 
foundations of the walls ; while soldiers, bearing shields, hav- 
ing planted ladders, sought an entrance over the ramparts. 



KING RICHARD AND THE THIRD CRUSADE. 323 

The king himself was running up and down through the ranks, 
directing some, reproving some, and urging others, and thus 
was he everywhere present with every one of them, so that 
whatever they all did ought properly to be ascribed to him. 
The king of the French also did not lightly assail them, mak- 
ing as bold an assault as he could on the tower of the city which 
is called Cursed. 

The renowned Carracois and Mestocus, after Saladin, the 
most powerful princes of the heathen, had at that time the 
charge of the besieged city, who, after a contest of many days, 
promised by their interpreters the surrender of the city, and a 
ransom for their heads ; but the king of the English desired to 
subdue their obstinacy by force ; and wished that the van- 
quished should pay their heads for the ransom of their bodies, 
but by the mediation of the king of the French their life and 
indemnity of limbs only was accorded, if, after the surrender 
of the city and yielding of everything they possessed, the Holy 
Cross should be given up. 

All the heathen warriors in Acre Avere chosen men, and were 
in number nine thousand; many of whom, swallowing many 
gold coins, made a purse of their stomachs, because they fore- 
saw that whatever they had of any value would be turned 
against them, even against themselves, if they should again 
oppose the cross, and would only fall a prey to the victors. So 
all of them came out before the kings entirely disarmed, and 
outside the city, without money, are given into custody ; and 
the kings, with triumphal banners, having entered the city, 
divided the whole with all its stores into two parts between 
themselves and their soldiers ; the pontiff's seat alone its bishoj) 
received by their united gift. The captives, being divided, 
Mestocus fell by lot to the portion of the king of the English, 
and Carracois, as a drop of cold water, fell into the mouth of 
the thirsty Philip, king of the French. 

Messengers on the part of the captives having been sent to 
Saladin for their ransom, when the heathen could by no en- 
treaty be moved to restore the Holy Cross, the king of the Eng- 
lish beheaded all his, with the exception of Mestocus only, who 
on account of his nobility was spared, and declared openly. 



324 THE KNIGHTS OF ENGLISH HISTORY. 

without any ceremony, that he would act in the same way to- 
ward Saladin himself. 

The king of tlie English, then, having sent for the command- 
ers of the French, j^roposed that in the jSrst place they should 
conjointly attempt Jerusalem itself; but the dissuasion of 
tlie French discouraged the hearts of both parties, dispirited 
the troops, and restrained the king, thus destitute of men, from 
his intended march on that metropolis. The king, troubled at 
this, though not despairing, from that day forth separated his 
army from the French, and directing his arms to the storming 
of castles along the seashore, he took every fortress that came 
in his way ffom Tyre to Ascalon, though after hard fighting 
and deep wounds.* 

On the Saturday, the eve of the Nativity of the blessed Vir- 
gin Mary, at earliest dawn, our men armed themselves with 
great care to receive the Turks, who were known to have pre- 
ceded their march, and whose insolence nothing but a battle 
could check. The enemy had ranged themselves in order, 
drawing gradually nearer and nearer ; and our men also took 
the utmost care to place themselves in as good order as possi- 
ble. King Richard, who was most experienced in military 
affairs, arranged " the army in squadrons, and directed who 
should march in front and who in the rear. He divided the 
army into twelve companies, and these again into five divisions, 
marshalled according as the men ranked in military discipline; 
and none could be found more warlike, if they had only had 
confidence in God, who is the giver of all good things. On 
that day the Templars formed the first rank, and after them 
came, in due order, the Bretons and men of Anjou ; then fol- 
lowed King Guy, with the men of Pictou ; and in the fourth 
line were the Normans and English, who had the care of the 
royal standard, and last of all marched the Hospitallers : this 
line was composed of chosen warriors, divided into companies. 
They kept together so closely that an apple, if thrown, would 
not have fallen to the ground without touching a man or a 
horse ; and the army stretched from the army of Saracens to 

* The preceding narrative is taken from the Chronicle of Richard of Devizes. 
What follows is from the Chronicle of Geoffrey de Vinsauf. 



KING KICHAKD AND THE THIRD CRUSADE. 325 

the seashore. There you might have seen their most appro- 
priate distinctions, — standards, and ensigns of various forms, 
and liardy soldiers, fresh and full of spirits, and well fitted for 
war. Henry, Count of Champagne, kept guard on the moun- 
tain side, and maintained a constant lookout on the flank; 
the foot-soldiers, bowmen, and arbalesters were on the outside, 
and the rear of the army was closed by the post horses and 
wagons, which carried provisions and other things, and jour- 
neyed along between the army and the sea, to avoid an attack 
from the enemy. 

This was the order of the army, as it advanced gradually, 
to prevent separation ; for the less close the line of battle, the 
less effective was it for resistance. King Richard and the 
Duke of Burgundy, with a chosen retinue of warriors, rode 
up and down, narrowly watching the j^osition and manner of 
the Turks, to correct anything in their own troops, if they 
saw occasion, for they had need, at that moment, of the utmost 
circumspection. 

It was now nearly nine o'clock, when there appeared a 
large body of the Turks, ten thousand strong, coming down 
upon us at full charge, and throwing darts and arrows as far 
as they could, while they mingled their voices in one horrible 
yell. There followed after them an infernal race of men, of 
black color, and bearing a suitable appellation, expressive of 
their blackness. With them also were the Saracens, who live 
in the desert, called Bedouins ; they are a savage race of men, 
blacker than soot; they fight on foot, and carry a bow, quiver, 
and round shield, and are a light and active race. These men 
dauntlessly attacked our army. Beyond these might be seen 
the well-arranged phalanxes of the Turks, with ensigns fixed 
to their lances, and standards and banners of separate dis- 
tinctions. Their army was divided into troops, and the troops 
into companies, and their numbers seemed to exceed twenty 
thousand. They came on with irresistible charge, on horses 
swifter than eagles, and urged on like lightning to attack our 
men ; and as they advanced they raised a cloud of dust, so 
that the air was darkened. In front came certain of their 
admirals, as it was their duty, with clarions and trumpets; 



326 THE KNIGHTS OF ENGLISH HISTORY. 

some had horns, others had pipes and timbrels, gongs, cymbals, 
and other instruments, producing a horrible noise and clamor. 
The earth vibrated from the loud and discordant sounds, so 
that the crash of thunder could not be heard amidst the tumul- 
tuous noise of horns and trumpets. They did this to excite 
their spirit and courage, for the more violent their clamor be- 
came, the more bold were they for the fray. Thus the impious 
Turks threatened us, both on the side towards the sea and 
from the side of the land ; and for the space of two miles not 
so much earth as could be taken up in one hand could be seen, 
on account of the hostile Turks who covered it. Oh, how 
obstinately they pressed on, and continued their stubborn 
attacks, so that our men suffered severe loss of their horses, 
which were killed by their darts and arrows. Oh, how useful 
to us on that day were our arbalesters and bowmen, who 
closed the extremities of the lines, and did their best to repel 
the obstinate Turks. 

The enemy came rushing down, like a torrent, to the attack ; 
and many of our arbalesters, unable to restrain the weight of 
their terrible and calamitous charge, threw away their arms, 
and, fearing lest they should be shut out, took refuge, in 
crowds, behind the dense lines of the army ; yielding through 
fear of death to sufferings which they could not support. 
Those whom shame forbade to yield, or the hope of an immor- 
tal crown sustained, were animated with greater boldness and 
courage to persevere in the contest, and fought with indefati- 
gable valor face to face against the Turks, whilst they at the 
same time receded step by step, and so reached their retreat. 
The whole of that day, on account of the Turks pressing them 
closely from behind, they faced around and went on skirmish- 
ing, rather than proceeding on their march. 

On, how great was the strait they were in on that day ! how 
great was their tribulation ! when some were affected with 
fears, and no one had such confidence or spirit as not to wish, 
at that moment, he had finished his pilgrimage, and had 
returned home, instead of standing with trembling heart the 
chances of a doubtful battle. In truth our people, so few in 
number, were so hemmed in by the multitudes of the Saracens, 



KING RICHARD AND THE THIRD CRUSADE. 327 

that they had no means of escape, if they tried; neither did 
they seem to have valor sufficient to withstand so many foes, — 
nay, they were shut in like a flock of sheep in the jaws of 
wolves, wdth nothing but the sky above, and the enemy all 
around them. O Lord God ! what feelings agitated that weak 
"flock of Christ ! straitened by such a perplexity, whom the 
enemy pressed with such unabating vigor, as if they would 
pass them through a sieve. What army was ever assailed by 
so mighty a force ? There you might have seen our troopers, 
having lost their chargers, marching on foot with the footmen, 
or casting missiles from the arbalests, or arrows from bows, 
against the enemy, and repelling their attacks in the best 
manner they were able. The Turks, skilled in the bow, 
pressfed unceasingly upon them ; it rained darts ; the air was 
filled with the shower of arrows, and the brightness of the 
sun was obscured by the multitude of missiles, as if it had 
been darkened by a fall of winter's hail or snow. Our horses 
were pierced by the darts and arrows, which were so numerous 
that the whole face of the earth around was covered with 
them, and if any one wished to gather them uj^, he might take 
twenty of them in his hand at a time. 

The Turks 2:>ressed with such boldness that they nearly 
crushed the Hospitallers ; on which the latter sent word to 
King Richard that they could not withstand the violence of 
the enemy's attack, unless he would allow their knights to 
advance at full charge against them. This the king dissuaded 
them from doing, but advised them to keep in a close body; 
they therefore persevered and kept together, though scarcely 
able to breathe for the pressure. By these means they were 
able to proceed on their way, though the heat happened to be 
very great on that day; so that they labored under two disad- 
vantages, — the hot weather and the attacks of the enemy. 
These approved martyrs of Christ sweated in the contest; 
and he who could have seen them closed uj) in a narrow space, 
so patient under the heat and toil of the day and the attacks 
of the enemy, who exhorted each otlier to destroy the Chris- 
tians, could not doubt in his mind that it augured ill to our 
success from their straitened and perilous position, hemmed in 



328 THE KNIGHTS OF ENGLISH HISTORY. 

as they were by so large a multitude; for the enemy thun- 
dered at their backs as if with mallets, so that, having no room 
to use their bows, they fought hand to hand with swords, 
lances, and clubs ; and the blows of the Turks, echoing from 
their metal armor, resounded as if they had been struck upon 
an anvil. They were now tormented with the heat, and no 
rest was allowed them. The battle fell heavy on the extreme 
line of the Hospitallers, the more so as they were unable to 
resist, but moved forward with patience under their wounds, 
returning not even a word for the blows which fell upon them, 
and advancing on their way because they were not able to 
bear the weight of the contest. 

Then they pressed on for safety upon the centre of the army 
which was in front of them, to avoid the fury of the enemy 
who harassed them in the rear. Was it wonderful that no one 
could witlistand so continuous an attack, when he could not 
even return a blow to the numbers who pressed on him ? The 
streno'th of all Pacranism liad oathered tosrether from Damas- 

o ^ o o o 

cus and Persia, from the Mediterranean to the East ; there 
was not left in the uttermost recesses of the earth one man of 
fame or power, one nation's valor, or one bold soldier, whom 
the sultan had not summoned to his aid, either by entreaty, by 
money, or by authority, to crush the Christian race ; for he 
presumed to hope he could blot them from the face of the 
eartli ; but his hopes were vain, for tlieir numbers were suffi- 
cient, through the assistance of God, to effect their purpose. 
The flower of the chosen youth and soldiers of Christendom 
had indeed assembled together, and were united in one body, 
like ears of corn on their stalks, from every region of the 
eartli; and if they had been utterly destroyed, there is no 
doubt that there were some left to make resistance. 

A cloud of dust obscured the air as our men marched on ; 
and, in addition to the lieat, they liad an enemy pressing tliem 
in the rear, insolent, and rendered obstinate by the instigation 
of the devil. Still the Christians proved good men, and secure 
in their unconquerable spirit, kept constantly advancing, while 
the Turks threatened them without ceasing in the rear ; but 
their blows fell harmless upon the defensive armor, and this 



KING KICHARD AND THE THIRD CRUSADE. 329 

caused the Turks to slacken in courage at the failure of their 
attempts, and they began to murmur in whispers of disap- 
pointment, crying out in their rage, " that our people were made 
of iron and would yield to no blow." Then the Turks, about 
twenty thousand strong, rushed again upon our men pell-mell, 
annoying them in every possible manner ; when, as if overcome 
by their savage fury, brother Garnier de Napes, one of the 
Hospitallers, suddenly exclaimed with a loud voice, "O excel- 
lent St. George ! will you leave us to be thus put to confusion ? 
The whole of Christendom is now on the point of perishing, 
because it fears to return a blow against this impious race." 

Upon this the master of the Hospitallers went to the king, 
and said to him, " My lord the king, we are violently pressed 
by the enemy, and are in danger of eternal infamy, as if we did 
not dare to return their blows ; w^e are each of us losing our 
horses one after another, and why should w^e bear with them 
any further?" To whom the king replied, " Good master, it is 
you who must sustain their attack ; no one can be everywhere at 
once." On the master returning, the Turks again made a fierce 
attack on them from the rear, and there was not a prince or 
count amongst them but blushed w^ith shame, and they said to 
each other, " Why do we not charge them at full gallop ? Alas ! 
alas ! we shall forever deserve to be called cowards, a thing 
which never happened to us before, for never has such a dis- 
grace befallen so great an army, even from unbelievers. Un- 
less we defend ourselves by immediately charging the enemy 
we shall gain everlasting scandal, and so much the greater the 
longer we delay to fight." O, how blind is human fate ! On 
what slippery points it stands ! Alas, on how uncertain wheels 
doth it advance, and with what ambiguous success doth it un- 
fold the course of human things ! A countless multitude of 
the Turks would have perished if the aforesaid attempt had 
been orderly conducted ; but to punish us for our sins, as it is 
believed, the potter's ware produces a paltry vessel instead of 
the grand design which he had conceived. For when they 
were treating on this point, and had come to the same decision 
about charging the enemy, two knights, who were impatient of 
delay, put everything in confusion. It had been resolved by 



330 THE KNIGHTS OF ENGLISH HISTORY. 

common consent that the sounding of six trumpets in three 
different parts of the army should be a signal for a charge, 
viz., two in front, two in the rear, and two in the middle, to 
distinguish the sounds from those of the Saracens, and to mark 
the distance of each. If these orders had been attended to, the 
Turks would have been utterly discomfited ; but from the too 
great haste of the aforesaid knights the success of the affair 
was marred. 

Tliey rushed at full gallop upon the Turks, and each of them 
prostrated his man by piercing him through with his lance. 
One of them was the marshal of the Hospitallers, the other 
w^as Baldwin de Carreo, a good and brave man, and the com- 
panion of King Richard, who had brought him in his retinue. 
When the other Christians observed these two rushing forward, 
and heard them calling with a clear voice on St. George for 
aid, they charged the Turks in a body with all their strength ; 
then the Hospitallers, who had been distressed all day by 
their close array, following the two soldiers, charged the enemy 
in troops, so that the van of the army became the rear from 
their position in the attack, and the Hospitallers, who had been 
the last, were the first to charge. 

The Count of Champagne also burst forward with his chosen 
company, and James d'Avennes with his kinsmen, and also 
Robert Count of Dreux, the bishop of Beauvais and his brother, 
as well as the Earl of Leicester, who made a fierce charge on 
the left towards the sea. Why need we name each ? Those 
who Avere in the first line of the rear made a united and furious 
charge ; after them the men of Poictou, the Bretons, and the 
men of Anjou, ru&hed swiftly onward, and then came the rest 
of the army in a body : each troop showed its valor, and boldly 
closed with the Turks, transfixing them with their lances, and 
casting them to the ground. The sky grew black with the 
dust that was raised in the confusion of that encounter. The 
Turks, who had purposely dismounted from their horses in 
order to take better aim at our men with their darts and arrows, 
were slain on all sides in that charge, for on being prostrated 
by the horse-soldiers they were beheaded by the foot-men. 
King Richard, on seeing his army in motion and in encounter 



KING RICHARD AND THE THIRD CRUSADE. 331 

with the Turks, flew rapidly on his horse at full speed through 
the Hospitallers, who had led the charge, and to whom he was 
bringing assistance with all his retinue, and broke into the 
Turkish infantry, Avho were astonished at his blows and those 
of his men, and gave way to the right and to the left. 

Then might be seen numbers prostrated on the ground, 
horses without their riders in crowds, the wounded lamenting 
with groans their hard fate, and others drawing their last 
breath, weltering in their gore, and many lay headless, whilst 
their lifeless forms were trodden underfoot both by friend and 
foe. Oh, how different are the speculations of those who medi- 
tate amidst the columns of the cloister from the fearful exer- 
cise of war ! There the king, the fierce, the extraordinary 
king, cut down the Turks in every direction, and none could 
escape the force of his arm, for wherever he turned, brandish- 
ing his sword, he carved a wide path for himself ; and as he 
advanced and gave repeated strokes with his sword, cutting them 
down like a reaper with his sickle, the rest, warned by the sight 
of the dying, gave him more ample space, for the corpses of the 
dead Turks which lay on the face of the earth extended over 
half a mile. In fine, the Turks Avere cut down, the saddles 
emptied of their riders, and the dust which was raised by the 
conflict of the combatants proved very hurtful to our men, for 
on becoming fatigued from slaying so many, when they were 
retiring to take fresh air, they could not recognize each other 
on account of the thick dust, and struck their blows indiscrim- 
inately to the right and to the left ; so that unable to distin- 
guish friend from foe they took their own men for enemies and 
cut them down without mercy. Then the Christians pressed 
hard on the Turk's, the latter gave way before them : but for a 
long time the battle was doubtful ; they still exchanged blows, 
and either party strove for the victory; on both sides were 
seen some retreating, covered with wounds, while others fell 
slain to the ground. 

Oh, how many banners and standards of different forms, 
and pennons and many-colored ensigns, might there be seen 
torn and fallen on the earth; swords of proved steel, and 
lances made of cane with iron heads, Turkish bows, and maces 



332 THE KNIGHTS OF ENGLISH HISTORY. 

bristling with sharp teeth, darts and arrows covering the 
ground, and missiles enough to load twenty wagons or more ! 
There lay the headless trunks of the Turks who had perished, 
whilst others retained their courage for a time until our men 
increased in strength, when some of them concealed themselves 
in the copses, some climbed up trees, and, being shot with 
arrows, fell with a fearful groan to the earth ; others, abandon- 
ing their horses, betook themselves by slipj^ery footpaths to 
the seaside, and tumbled headlong into the waves from the pre- 
cipitous cliffs that were five poles in height. The rest of the 
enemy were repulsed in so wonderful a manner that for the 
space of two miles nothing could be seen but fugitives, although 
they had before been so obstinate and fierce, and puffed up 
with pride ; but by God's grace their pride was humbled, and 
they continued still to fly, for when our men ceased the pur- 
suit fear alone added wings to their feet. Our army had beep 
ranged in divisions when they attacked the Turks ; the Nor- 
mans and English also, who had the care of the standard, came 
up slowly towards the troops which were fighting with the 
Turks, — for it was very difficult to disperse the enemy's 
strength, and they stopped at a short distance therefrom, that 
all might have a rallying point. On the conclusion of the 
slaughter our men paused ; but the fugitives, to the number of 
twenty thousand, when they saw this, immediately recovering 
their courage, and armed with maces, charged the hindmost 
of those who were retiring, and rescued some from our men 
who had just struck them down. 

Oh, how dreadfully were our men then pressed ! for the darts 
and arrows, thrown at them as they were falling back, broke the 
heads, arms, and other limbs of our horsemen, so that they bent, 
stunned, to their saddle-bows; but having quickly regained 
their spirits and resumed their strength, and thirsting for ven- 
geance with greater eagerness, like a lioness when her whelps 
nre stolen, they charged the enemy, and broke through them 
like a net. Then you might have seen^ the horses with their 
saddles displaced, and the Turks, who had but just now fled, 
returning, and pressing upon our people with the utmost fury ; 
every cast of their darts would have told had our men kept 



KING RICHARD AND THE THIRD CRUSADE. 333 

marching, and not stood still in a compact, immovable body. 
The commander of the Turks was an admiral, named Teked- 
mus, a kinsman of the sultan, having a banner with a remark- 
able device ; namely, that of a pair of breeches carved thereon, 
a symbol well known to his men. He was a most cruel perse- 
cutor, and a persevering enemy of the Christians ; and he had 
under his command seven hundred chosen Turks of great valor, 
of the household troops of Saladin, each of whose companies 
bore a yellow banner with pennons of a different color. These 
men, coming at full charge, with clamor and haughty bearing, 
attacked our men, who were turning off from them towards 
the standard, cutting at them, and piercing them severely, so 
that even the firmness of our chiefs wavered under the weight 
of the pressure ; yet our men remained immovable, compelled 
to repel force by force. And the conflict grew thicker, the 
blows were redoubled, and the battle waxed fiercer than be- 
fore : the one side labored to crush, the other to repel ; both 
exerted their strength, and although our men were by far the 
fewest in numbers, they made havoc of great multitudes of the 
enemy ; and that portion of the army which thus toiled in the 
battle could not return to the standard with ease, on account 
of the immense mass which pressed upon them so severely; 
for thus hemmed in they began to flag in courage, and but few 
dared to renew the attack of the enemy. In truth, the Turks 
were furious in the assault, and greatly distressed our men, 
whose blood pottred forth in a stream beneath their blows. 
On perceiving them reel and give way, William de Barris, a re- 
nowned knight, breaking through the ranks, charged the Turks 
with his men ; and such was the vigor of the onset that some 
fell by the edge of his sword, while others only saved them- 
selves by rapid flight. For all that, the king, mounted on a 
bay Cyprian steed, which had not its match, bounded forward 
in the direction of the mountains, and scattered those he met 
on all sides; for the enemy fled from his sword and gave w^ay, 
while helmets tottered beneath it, and sparks flew forth from 
its strokes. So great was the fury of his onset, and so many 
and deadly his blows that day, in his conflict with the Turks, 
that in a short space of time the enemy were all scattered, and 



334 THE KNIGHTS OF ENGLISH HISTORY. 

allowed our army to proceed ; and thus our men, having suf- 
fered somewhat, at last returned to the standard, and pro- 
ceeded on their march as far as Arsur, and there they pitched 
their tents outside its walls. 

While they were thus engaged a large body of the Turks 
made an attack on the extreme rear of our army. On hearing 
the noise of the assailants. King Richard, encouraging his men 
to battle, rushed at full speed, with only fifteen companions, 
against the Turks, crying out, with a loud voice, "Aid us, O 
God ! and the Holy Sepulchre ! " and this he exclaimed a sec- 
ond and a third time ; and when our men heard it they made 
haste to follow him, and attacked, routed, and put them to 
flight; pursuing them as far as Arsur, whence they had first 
come out, cutting them down and subduing them. Many of 
the Turks fell there also. The king returned thence from the 
slaughter of the fugitives to his camp ; and the men, overcome 
with the fatigue and exertions of the day, rested quietly that 
night. 

Whoever was greedy of gain, and wished to plunder the 
booty, returned to the place of battle, and loaded himself to 
his heart's desire ; and those who returned from thence reported 
that they had counted thirty-two Turkish chiefs who were 
found slain on that day, and whom they supposed to be men 
of great influence and power from the splendor of their armor 
and the costliness of their apparel. The Turks also made search 
for them to carry them away as being of the most importance; 
and besides these the Turks carried off seven thousand man- 
gled bodies of those who were next in rank, besides of the 
wounded, who went off in straggling parties ; and when their 
strengtii failed lay about the fields and died. But by the pro- 
tection of God we did not lose a tenth, nor a hundredth part 
so many as fell in the Turkish army. Oh, the disasters of that 
day ! Oh, the trials of the warriors! for the tribulations of the 
just are many. Oh, mournful calamity and bitter distress. 
How great must have been the blackness of our sins to require 
so fiery an ordeal to purify it, for if we had striven to overcome 
the urgent necessity by pious long-suffering, and without a 
murmur, the sense of our obligations would have been deeper* 



KING RICHARD AND THE THIRD CRUSADE. 335 

And again the Christians were put in great peril, in the fol- 
lowing manner. At the siege of Joppa a certain depraved set 
of men among the Saracens, called Menelones of Aleppo and 
Cordivi, an active race, met together to consult what should be 
done in the existing state of things. They spoke of the scandal 
which lay against them, that so small an army, without horses, 
had driven them out of Joppa, and they reproached themselves 
with cowardice and shameful baseness, and arrogantly made a 
compact among themselves that they would seize King Richard 
in his tent, and bring him before Saladin, from whom they 
would receive a most munificent reward. 

So they prepared themselves in the middle of the night to 
surprise the king, and sallied forth armed, by the light of the 
moon, conversing with one another about the object they had 
in hand. O hateful race of unbelievers ! they are anxiously 
bent upon seizing Christ's steadfast soldier while he is asleep. 
They rush on in numbers to seize him, unarmed and appre- 
hensive of no danger. They were not far from his tent, and 
were preparing to lay hands on him, when, lo ! the God of 
mercy, who never neglects those who trust in Him, and acts in 
a wonderful manner even to those who know Him not, sent 
the spirit of discord among the aforesaid Cordivi and Mene- 
lones. The Cordivi said, "You shall go in on foot to take the 
king and his followers, whilst we will remain on horseback to 
prevent their escaping into the castle." But the Menelones 
replied, " ISTay, it is your place to go in on foot, because our 
rank is higher than yours ; but this service on foot belongs to 
you rather than us." Whilst thus the two parties were con- 
tending which of them were the greatest, their combined dis- 
pute caused much delay; and when at last they came to a 
decision how their nefarious attempt should be achieved, the 
dawn of the day appeared, viz., the Wednesday next following 
the feast of St. Peter ad vincula. But now by the providence 
of God. who had decreed that his holy champion should not 
be seized whilst asleep by the infidels, a certain Genoese was 
led by the divine impulse to go out early in the morning into 
the fields, where he was alarmed by the noise of men and 
horses advancing, and returned speedily, but just had time to 



336 THE KNIGHTS OF ENGLISH HISTORY. 

see helmets reflecting back the light which now fell upon them. 
He immediately rushed with speed into the camp, calling out, 
" To arms ! to arms ! " The king was awakened by the noise, 
and leaping startled from his bed, put on his impenetrable coat 
of mail, and summoned his men to the rescue. 

God of all mercies! lives there a man who would not be 
shaken by such a sudden alarm ? The enemy rushed unawares, 
armed against unarmed, many against few, for our men had no 
time to arm or even to dress themselves. The king himself, 
therefore, and many others with him, on the urgency of the 
moment, proceeded without their cuishes to the fight, some 
even without their breeches, and they armed themselves in the 
best manner they could, though they were going to fight the 
whole day. Whilst our men were thus arming in haste, the 
Turks drew^ near, and the king mounted his liorse, with only 
ten other knights with him. These alone had horses, and 
some even of them had base and impotent horses, unused to 
arms ; the common men w^ere drawn skilfully out in ranks and 
troops, with each a captain to command them. The knights 
were posted nearer to the sea, having the church of St. Nich- 
olas on the left, because the Turks had directed their principal 
attack on that quarter, and tlie Pisans and Genoese were posted 
beyond the suburban gardens, having other troops mingled 
with them. O who could fully relate the terrible attacks of 
the infidels ? The Turks at first rushed on with horrid yells, 
hurling their javelins and shooting their arrows. Our men 
prepared themselves as they best could to receive their furious 
attack, each fixing his right knee in the ground, that so they 
might the better hold together and maintain their position ; 
whilst there the thighs of their left legs w^ere bent, and their 
left hands held their shields or bucklers ; stretched out before 
them in their right hands they held their lances, of wliich the 
lower ends w^ere fixed in the ground, and their iron heads 
pointed threateningly towards the enemy. 

Betw^een every two of the men who were thus covered witli 
tlieir shields, the king, versed in arms, placed an arbalester, 
and another behind him to stretch the arbalest as quickly as 
possible, so that the man in front might discharge his shot 



KING RICHAKD AND THE THIRD CRUSADE. 387 

whilst the other was loading. This was found to be of much 
benefit to our men, and did much harm to the enemy. Thus 
everything was prepared as well as the shortness of the time 
allowed, and our little army was drawn up in order. The 
king ran along the ranks, and exhorted every man to be brave 
and not to flinch. "Courage, my brave men," said he; "and 
let not the attack of the enemy disturb you. Bear uj) against 
the powers of fortune, and you will rise above them. Every- 
thing may be borne by brave men ; adversity sheds a light 
upon the*virtues of mankind, as certainly as prosperity casts 
over them a shade ; there is no room for flight, for the enemy 
surround us, and to attempt to flee is to provoke certain death. 
Be brave, therefore, and let the urgency of the case sharpen 
up your valor; brave men should either conquer nobly or glo- 
riously die. Martyrdom is a boon which w^e should receive 
with willing mind ; but before we die, let us, wiiilst still alive, 
do what we may to avenge our deaths, giving thanks to God 
that it has been our lot to die martyrs. This wdll be the end 
of our labors, the termination, of our life and of our battles." 
These words were hardly spoken, when the hostile array rushed 
with ferocity upon them, in seven troops, each of wjiich con- 
tained about a thousand horse. Our men received their attack 
with their right feet planted firm against the sand, and re- 
mained immovable. Their lances formed a wall against the 
enemy, who w^ould have assuredly broken through, if our men 
had in the least given way. 

The first line of the Turks, perceiving, as they advanced, 
that our men stood immovable, recoiled a little, when our men 
plied them with a shower of missiles, slaying large numbers of 
men and horses. Another line of Turks at once came on in 
like manner, and were again encountered and driven back. 
In this way the Turks came on like a whirlwind, again and 
again, making the appearance of an attack, that our men might 
be induced to give way, and when they were close up they 
turned their horses off in another direction. The king and his 
knights, who were on horseback, perceiving this, put spurs to 
their horses, and charged into the middle of the enemy, 
upsetting them right and left, and piercing a large number 



338 THE KNIGHTS OF ENGLISH HISTORY. 

through the body with their lances ; at last they pulled up 
their horses, because they found that they had penetrated 
entirely through the Turkish lines. The king, now looking 
about him, saw the noble earl of Leicester fallen from his 
horse, and fighting bravely on foot. ISTo sooner did he see this, 
than he rushed to his rescue, snatched him out of the hands of 
the enemy, and replaced him on his horse. What a terrible 
combat was then waged ! A multitude of Turks advanced, 
and used every exertion to destroy our small army ; vexed at 
our success, they rushed toward the royal standard of the 
lion, for they would rather have slain the king than a thou- 
sand others. In the midst of the melee the king saw Ralph 
de Mauleon dragged off prisoner by the Turks, and spurring 
his horse to speed, in a moment released him from their hands, 
and restored him to the army; for the king was a very giant 
in the battle, and was everywhere in the field, — now here, 
now there, wherever the attacks of the Turks raged the hot- 
test. So bravely did he fight, that there was no one, however 
gallant, that would not readily and deservedly yield to him 
the pre-eminence. On that day he performed the most gallant 
deeds on the furious army of the Turks, and slew numbers 
with his sword, which shone like lightning; some of them 
were cloven in two, from their helmet to their teeth, whilst 
others lost their heads, arms, and other members, which were 
lopped off at a single blow. While the king was thus laboring 
with incredible exertions in the fight, a Turk advanced toward 
him, mounted on a foaming steed. He had been sent by Sa- 
phadin of Archadia, brother to Saladin, a liberal and munificent 
man, if he had not rejected the Christian faith. This man 
now sent to the king, as a token of his well-known honorable 
character, two noble horses, requesting him earnestly to accept 
them, and make use of them, and if he returned safe and 
sound out of that battle, to remember the gift and recompense 
it in any manner he pleased. The king readily received the 
present, and afterwards nobly recompensed the giver. Such 
is bravery, cognizable even in an enemy; since a Turk, who 
was our bitter foe, thus honored the king for his distmguished 
valor. The king, especially at such a moment of need, pro- 



KING RICHARD AND THE THIRD CRUSADE. 339 

tested that he would have taken any number of horses equally 
good from any one even more a foe than Saphadin, so neces- 
sary were they to him at that moment. Fierce now raged the 
light, when such numbers attacked so few; the whole earth 
was covered with the javelins and arrows of the unbelievers ; 
tliey threw them, several at a time, at our men, of whom many 
were wounded. Thus the weight of battle fell heavier upon 
us than before, and the galley-men withdrew in the galleys 
which brought them ; and so, in their anxiety to be safe, they 
sacrificed their character for bravery. Meanwhile a shout was 
raised by the Turks, as they strove who should first occupy the 
town, hoping to slay those of our men whom they should find 
within. The king, hearing the clamor, taking with him only 
two knights and two crossbow-men, met three Turks, nobly 
caparisoned, in one of the principal streetis. Rushing bravely 
upon them, he slew the riders in his own royal fashion, and 
made booty of two horses. The rest of the Turks who were 
found in the town were put to the rout in spite of their resist- 
ance, and dispersing in different directions, sought to make 
their escape, even where there was no regular road. The king 
also commanded the parts of the walls which were broken 
down to be made good, and placed sentinels to keej) watch lest 
the town should be again attacked. 

These matters settled, the king went down to the shore, 
where many of our men had taken refuge on board the galleys. 
These the king exhorted by the most cogent arguments to re- 
turn to the battle, and share with the rest whatever might 
befall them. Leaving five men as guards on board each galley, 
the king led back the rest to assist his hard-pressed army ; and 
he no sooner arrived than with all his fury he fell upon the 
thickest ranks of the enemy, driving them back and routing 
them, so that even those who were at a distance and untouched 
by him were overwhelmed by the throng of the troops as they 
retreated. Never was there such an attack made by an indi- 
vidual. He pierced into the middle of the hostile army, and 
performed the deeds of a brave and distinguished warrior. 
The Turks at once closed upon him, and tried to overwhelm 
him. In the meantime our men, losing sight of the king, were 



340 THE KNIGHTS OF ENGLISH HISTORY. 

fearful lest he should have been slain, and when one of them 
proposed that they should advance to find him, our lines could 
hardly contain themselves. But if by any chance the disposi- 
tion of our troops had been broken, without doubt they would 
all liave been destroyed. What, however, was to be thought 
of the king, Avho was hemmed in by the enemy, a single man 
opposed to so many thousands? The hand of the writer faints 
to see it, and the mind of the reader to hear it. Who ever 
heard of such a man ? His bravery was ever of the highest 
order, no adverse storm could sink it ; his valor was ever 
becoming, and if we may from a few instances judge of many, 
it was ever indefatigable in war. Why then do we speak of 
the valor of Antaeus, who regained his strength every time he 
touched his mother earth, for Antaeus perished when he was 
lifted up from earth in the long wrestling match. The body 
of Achilles also, who slew Hector, was invulnerable, because 
he was dipped in the Stygian waves ; yet Achilles was mortally 
wounded in the very part by which he was held when they 
dipped him. Likewise Alexander, the Macedonian, who was 
stimulated by ambition to subjugate the whole world, under- 
took a most difticult enterprise, and with a handful of choice 
soldiers fought many celebrated battles, but the chief part of 
his valor consisted of the excellence of his soldiers. In the 
same manner the brave Judas Maccabeus, of whom all the 
world discoursed, performed many wonderful deeds worthy 
forever to be remembered, but when he was abandoned by his 
soldiers in the midst of a battle, with tliousands of enemies to 
oppose him, he was slain, together with his brothers. But 
King Richard, inured to battle from his tenderest years, and 
to whom even famous Roland could not be considered equal, 
remained invincible, even in the midst of tiie enemy; and his 
body, as if it were made of brass, was impenetrable to any 
kind of weapon. In his right hand lie brandished his sword, 
which in its rapid descent broke the ranks on either side of 
him. Such was his energy amid that host of Turks that, fear- 
ing nothing, he destroyed all around him, mowing men down 
with his scythe as reapers mow down the corn with their 
sickles. Who could describe his deeds ? Whoever felt one of 



KING RICHARD AND THE THIRD CRUSADE. 341 

his blows had no need of a second. Such was the energy of 
his courage that it seemed to rejoice at having found an occa- 
sion to display itself. The sword wielded by his 2:)0werful 
hand cut down men and horses alike, cleaving them to the mid- 
dle. The more he was himself separated from his men, and 
the more the enemy sought to overwhelm him, the more did 
his valor shine conspicuous. Among other brave deeds w^hich 
he performed on that occasion he slew by one marvellous stroke 
an admiral, w^ho was conspicuous above the rest of the enemy 
by his rich caparisons. This man by his gestures seemed to 
say that he was going to do something wonderful, and wdiilst 
he reproached the rest with cowardice he put spurs to his horse 
and charged full against the king, who, waving his sword as 
he saw him coming, smote off at a single blow not only his 
head, but his shoulder and right arm. The Turks were terror- 
struck at the sight, and, giving way on all sides, scarcely dared 
to shoot at him from a distance with their arrows. 

The king now returned safe and unhurt to his friends, and 
encouraged them more than ever with the hope of victory. 
How were their minds raised froni despair when they saw him 
coming safe out of the enemy's ranks ! They knew not what 
had happened to him, but they knew that without him all tlie 
hopes of the Christian army would be in vain. The king's 
person was stuck all over with javelins, like a deer pierced by 
the hunters, and the trappings of his horse were thickly cov- 
ered with arrows. Thus, like a brave soldier, he returned from 
the contest, and a bitter contest it was, for it had lasted from 
the morning sun to the setting sun. It may seem wonderful 
and even incredible, that so small a body of men endured so 
long a conflict ; but by God's mercy w^e cannot doubt the truth 
of it, for in that battle only one or tw^o of our men were slain. 
But the number of the Turkish horses that lay dead on the 
field is said to have exceeded fifteen hundred ; and of the Turks 
themselves more than seven hundred were killed, and yet they 
did not carry back King Richard, as they had boasted, as a 
present to Saladin ; but, on the contrary, he and his horse per- 
formed so many deeds of valor in the sight of the Turks that 
the enemy shuddered to behold him. 



342 THE KNIGHTS OF ENGLISH HISTORY. 

In the meantime our men having by God's grace escaped de- 
struction, the Turkish army returned to Saladin, who is said to 
liave ridiculed them by asking where Melech Richard was, for 
tliey had promised to bring him a prisoner? " Which of you," 
continued he, " first seized him, and where is he ? Why is he 
not produced ? " To wliom one of the Turks that came from 
the furthest countries of the earth replied, " In truth, my lord, 
Melech Richard, about whom you ask, is not here ; we have 
never heard since the beginning of the world that there ever 
was such a knight, so brave and so experienced in arms. In 
every deed of arms he is ever the foremost ; in deeds he is 
without a rival, the first to advance and the last to retreat ; we 
did our best to seize him, but in vain, for no man can escape 
from his sword ; his attack is dreadful ; to engage with him is 
fatal, and his deeds are beyond human nature." 




CHAPTER XXXiy. 

ROBIN HOOD OF SHERWOOD FOREST. 



In this our spacious isle I think there is not one, 
But he of Robin Hood hath heard and Little John ; 
And to the end of time the tales shall ne'er be done 
Of Scarlock, Georg-e a Qireen, and Much the miller's son, 
Of Tuck, the merry friar, which many a sermon made 
In praise of Robin Hood, his outlaws and their trade. 

Drayton. 

EVERY reader of "Ivanhoe," at the mention of Richard 
the Crusader, will be reminded of Robin Hood, the noble 
outlaw of Sherwood Forest, and his band of merry bowmen. 
With these we next concern ourselves, and if the reader Avill 
pardon the dry outlines of the historian before proceeding to 
the more interesting and imaginative story of the ballad- 
singer, we will at first state what so careful an antiquary as 
Mr. Ritson considers to be truly trustworthy in Robin Hood's 
history. 

Robin Hood was born at Locksley, in the county of Notting- 
ham, in the reign of King Henry II., and about the year of 

343 



344 THE KNIGHTS OF ENGLISH HISTORY. 

Christ 1160. His extraction was noble, and his true name 
Robert Fitzooth, which vulgar pronunciation easily corrupted 
into Robin Hood. He is frequently styled, and commonly re- 
puted to have been. Earl of Huntingdon ; a title to which, in 
the latter part of his life at least, he actually appears to have 
had some sort of pretension. In his youth he is reported to 
have been of a wild and extravagant disposition, insomuch 
that, his inheritance being consumed or forfeited by his ex- 
cesses, and his person outlawed for debt, either from necessity 
or choice he sought an asylum in the woods and forests, wdth 
which immense tracts, especially in the northern part of the 
kingdom, were at that time covered. Of these he chiefly af- 
fected Barnsdale, in Yorkshire ; Sherwood in Nottinghamshire, 
and, according to some, Plompton Park in Cumberland. Here 
he either found or was afterwards joined by a number of per- 
sons in similar circumstances, who appear to have considered 
and obeyed him as their chief or leader. . . . Having for a 
long series of years maintained a sort of independent sover- 
eignty, and set kings, judges, and magistrates at defiance, a 
proclamation was published, offering a considerable reward for 
brinffino- him in either dead or alive ; which, however, seems 
to have been productive of no greater success than former at- 
tempts for that purpose. At length the infirmities of old age 
increasing upon liim, and desirous to be relieved, in a fit of 
sickness, by being let blood, he applied for that purpose to the 
prioress of Kirkley nunnery in Yorkshire, his relative (women, 
and particularly religious women, being in tliose times some- 
what better skilled in surgery than the sex is at present), by 
whom he was treacherously suffered to bleed to death. This 
event happened on the 18t"h N'ovember, 1247, being the thirty- 
first year of King Henry III. ; and if the date assigned to his 
birth be correct, about the eighty-seventh year of his age. He 
was interred under some trees at a short distance from the 
house ; a stone being placed over his grave, with an inscription 
to his memory. 

There are some who will have it that Robin Hood was not 
alive in the reign of Ricliard I., and who will have it that 
he preferred other forests to Sherwood. But the stories that 



ROBIN HOOD OF SHERWOOD FOREST. 345 

we have chosen are of the Robin Hood of Sherwood Forest 
and of King Richard the Lion-hearted. 

Little John. 

The lieutenant of Robin Hood's band was named Little 

John, not so much from his smallness in stature (for he was 

seven feet high and more), as for a reason which I shall tell 

fcter. And the manner in wliich Robin Hood, to whom he was 

very dear, met him was this. 

Robin Hood on one occasion being hunting with his men and 
finding tlie sport to be poor, said : " We have had no sport now 
for some time. So I go abroad alone. And if I should fall 
into any peril wlience I cannot escape I will blow my horn that 
ye may know of it and bear me aid." And with tliat he bade 
them adieu and departed alone, having with him his bow and 
the arrows in liis quiver. And passing shortly over a brook 
by a long bridge he met at the middle a stranger. And neither 
of the two would give way to the otlier. And Robin Hood 
being angry fitted an arrow to his bow and made ready to fire. 
"Truly," said the stranger at this, "thou art a fine fellow that 
you must draw your long bow on me who have but a staff by 
me." "That is just truly," said Robin; "and so I will lay 
by my bow and get me a staff to try if your deeds be as good 
as your words." And with that he went into a thicket and 
chose him a small ground oak for a staff and returned to the 
stranger. 

"Now," said he, "I am a matcli for yon, so let us play upon 
this bridge, and if one should fall in the stream the other will 
have the victory." "With all my heart," said the stranger; "I 
shall not be the first to give out." And with that they began 
to make great play with their staves. And Robin Hood first 
struck the stranger such a blow as warmed all his blood, and 
from that they rattled their sticks as though they had been 
thresliing corn. And finally the stranger gave Robin such a 
crack on his crown that he broke his head and the blood flowed. 
But this only urged him the more, so that he attacked the 
stranger with such vigor that he had like to have made an end 



346 THE KNIGHTS OF ENGLISH HISTORY. 

of him. But he growing into a fury finally fetched him such 
a blow that he tumbled him from the bridge into the brook. 
Whereat tlie stranger laughed loudly and long, and cried out to 
him, " Where art thou now, I prythee, my good fellow ? " And 
Robin replied, " Thou art truly a brave soul, and I will have 
no more to do with thee to-day ; so our battle is at an end, and 
I must allow that thou hast won the day." And then Avading to 
the bank he pulled out his horn and blew a blast on it so that 
the echoes flew throughout the valley. And at that came fif^ 
bold bowmen out of the wood, all clad in green, and they made 
for Robin Plood, and said William Stukely, " What is the mat- 
ter, my master ? you are wet to the skin ? " " Truly, nothing is 
the matter," said Robin, " but that the lad on the bridge has 
tumbled me into the stream." And on that the archers would 
have seized the stranger to duck him as well, but Robin Hood 
forbade them. "No one shall harm thee, friend," said he. 
"These are all my bowmen, threescore and nine, and if you 
will be one of us you shall straightway have my livery and ac- 
coutrements, fit for a man. What say you?" "With all my 
heart," said the stranger ; " here is my hand on it. My name 
is John Little, and I will be a good man and true to you." 
*' His name shall be changed," said William Stukely on this. 
" We will call him Little John, and I will be his godfather." 

So they fetched a pair of fat does and some humming strong 
ale, and there they christened their babe Little John, for he 
was seven feet high and an ell round at his waist. 

Friar Tuck. 

Now Robin Hood had instituted a day of mirth for himself 
and all his companions, and wagers were laid amongst them 
Avho should exceed at this exercise and who at that ; some 
did contend who should jump farthest, some who should 
throw" the bar, some who should be swiftest afoot in a race five 
miles in length ; others there were with which Little John was 
most delighted, who did strive Avhich of them should draw 
the strongest bow, and be the best marksman. "Let me see," 
said Little John, " which of you can kill a buck, and who can 



ROBIN HOOD OF SHERWOOD FOREST. 347 

kill a doe, and who is he can kill a hart, being distant from it 
by the space of five hundred feet." With that, Robin Hood 
going before them, they went directly to the forest, where 
they found good store of game feeding before them. Wil- 
liam Scarlock, that drew the strongest bow of them all, did 
kill a buck, and Little John made choice of a barren fat doe, 
and the well-directed arrow did enter in the very heart of it ; 
and Midge, the miller's son, did kill a hart above five hundred 
iet distant from him. The hart falling, Robin Hood stroked 
dm gently on the shoulder, and said unto him, " God's blessing 
on thy heart, I will ride five hundred miles to find a match for 
thee." William Scarlock, hearing him speak these words, 
smiled and said unto him, " Master, what needs that ? Here 
is a Curtal Friar * not far off, that for a hundred pound will 
shoot at what distance yourself will propound, either with 
Midge or with yourself. An experienced man he is, and wdll 
draw a bow with great strength ; he will shoot with yourself, 
and with all the men you have, one after another." 

"Sayest thou so, Scarlock?" replied Robin Hood. "By 
the grace of God I will neither eat nor drink till I see this 
Friar thou dost speak of." And having prepared himself for 
his journey, he took Little John and fifty of his best archers 
with him, w^hom he bestowed in a convenient place, as he him- 
self thought fitting. This being done, he ran down into the 
dale, where he found the Curtal Friar walking by the water 
side. He no sooner espied him, but presently he took unto 
him his broadsword and buckler, and put on his head a steel 
bonnet. The Friar, not knowing who he was, or for what 
intent he came, did presently arm himself to encounter with 
him. Robin Hood, coming near unto him, alighted from his 
horse, which he tied to a thorn that grew hard by, and looking 
wistfully on the Friar, said unto him, " Carry me over the w^ater, 
thou Curtal Friar, or else thy life lies at the stake." The 

* "The Curtal Friar," Dr. Stukely says, "is Cordelier, from the cord or rope 
which they wore round their waist, to whip themselves with. They were," adds 
he, " of the Franciscan order. Our Friar, however, is undouhtedly so called 
from his Curtal dogs, or curs, as we now say." Thorns. Early Prose Romances: 
in which, by the way, may be found many of the tales of Robin Hood printed 
here, and much more beside of interest. 



348 THE KNIGHTS OF ENGLISH HISTORY. 

Friar made no more ado, but took up Robin Hood and carried 
him on his back ; deep water he did stride ; he spake not so 
much as one word to him, but haA-ing carried him over, he 
gently laid him down on the side of the bank; which being 
done, the Friar said to Robin Hood, " It is now thy turn ; 
therefore carry me over the water, thou bold fellow, or sure I 
shall make thee repent it." Robin Hood, to requite the cour- 
tesy, took the Friar on his back, and not speaking the least 
word to him, carried him over the water, and laid him gently 
down on the side of the bank; and turning to him, he spake 
unto him as at first, and bade him carry him over the water 
once more, or he should answer it with the forfeit of his life. 
The Friar in a smiling manner took him up, and spake not a 
word till he came in the midst of the stream, when, being up 
to the middle and higher, he did shake him from off his shoul- 
ders, and said unto him, "Now choose thee, bold fellow, 
whether thou wilt sink or swim." 

Robin Hood, being soundly washed, got him up on his feet, 
and prostrating himself, did swim to a bush of broom on the 
other side of the bank ; and the Friar swam to a willow tree 
which was not far from it. Then Robin Hood, taking his bow 
in his hand, and one of his best arrows, did shoot at the Friar, 
Avhich the Friar received in his buckler of steel, and said unto 
him, " Shoot on, thou bold fellow ; if thou shootest at me a 
whole summer's day I will stand your mark still." " That will 
I," said Robin Hood, and shot arrow after arrow at him, until 
he had not an arrow left in his quiver. He then laid down his 
bow, and drew out his sword, which but two days before had 
been the death of three men. Now hand to hand they went 
with sword and buckler ; the steel buckler defends whatsoever 
blow is given ; sometimes they make at the head, sometimes at 
the foot, sometimes at the side ; sometimes they strike directly 
down, sometimes they falsify their blows, and come in foot 
and arm, with a free thrust at the body ; and being ashamed 
that so long they exercise their unprofitable valor and cannot 
hurt one another, they multiply their blows, they hack, they 
hew, they slash, they foam. At last Robin Hood desired the 
Friar to hold his hand, and to give him leave to blow his horn. 



ROBIN HOOD OF SHERWOOD FOREST. 349 

" Thou wantest breath to sound it," said the Friar ; " take 
thee a little respite, for we have been five hours at it by the 
Fountain Abbey clock." Robin Hood took his horn from his 
side, and having sounded it three times, behold where fifty 
lusty men, with their bended bows, came to his assistance. 
Tlie Friar, wondering at it, "Whose men," said he, "be 
these?" "They are mine," said Robin Hood; "what is that 
to thee ? " " False loon," said the Friar ; and making a little 
pause, he desired Robin Hood to show him the same courtesy 
which he gave him. "What is that?" said Robin Hood. 
"Thou soundest thy horn three times," said the Friar; "let 
me now but whistle three times." " Ay, with all my heart," 
said Robin Hood ; " I were to blame if I should deny thee that 
courtesy." With that the Friar set his fist to his mouth, and 
whistled three times so shrilly that the place echoed again 
with it ; and behold three and fifty fair ban-dogs (their hairs 
rising on their back, betokening their rage), were almost on 
the backs of Robin Hood and his companions. " Here is for 
every one of thy men a dog," said the Friar, " and two for 
thee." "Tliat is foul play," said Robin Hood. He had scarce 
spoken that word but two dogs came upon him at once, one 
before, another behind him, who, although they could not 
touch his fiesh (his sword had made so swift a despatch of 
them), yet they tore his coat into two pieces. By this time 
the men had so laid about them that the dogs began to fly 
back, and their fury to languish into barking. Little John did 
so bestir himself, that the Curtal Friar, admiring at his courage 
and his nimbleness, did ask him who he was. He made him 
answer, "I will tell the truth, and not lie. I am he who is 
called Little John, and do belong to Robin Hood, who hath 
fought with thee this day, five hours together ; and if thou 
wilt not submit unto him, this arrow shall make thee." The 
Friar, perceiving how much he was overpowered, and that it 
was impossible for him to deal with so many at once, did come 
to composition with Robin Hood. And the articles of agree- 
ment were these: That the Friar should abandon Fountain 
Dale and Fountain Abbey, and should live with Robin Hood, 
at his place not far from Nottingham, where for saying of 



350 THE KNIGHTS OF ENGLISH HISTORY. 

mass, he should receive a noble for every Sunday throughout 
the year, and for saying mass on every holy day, a new change 
of garment. The Friar, contented with these conditions, did 
seal the agreement. And thus by the courage of Robin 
Hood and his yeomen, he was enforced at the last to submit, 
having for seven long years kept Fountain Dale, not all the 
power thereabouts being able to bring him on his knees. 

But Fi'iar Tuck was the only man of the clergy with whom 
Robin had friendly dealings. As a rule these churchmen fared 
as did the Bishop of Hereford in the following ballad, which 
we add for the sake of an example of the manner in which this 
True History of Robin Hood has come down to us from the 
year 1245: — 

THE BISHOP OF HEREFORD'S ENTERTAINMENT BY ROBIN 
HOOD AND LITTLE JOHN AND THEIR COMPANY, IN MERRY 
BARNSDALE. 

Some they Avill talk of bold Robin Hood, 

And some of barons bold ; 
But I'll tell you how he served the Bishop of Hereford, 

When he robbed him of his g'old. 

As it befell in merry Barnsdale, 

All under the greenwood tree, 
The Bishop of Hereford was to come by. 

With all his company. 

" Come, kill me a venison," said bold Robin Hood, 

" And dress it by the highway side. 
And we will watch the bishop narrowly. 

Lest some other way he should ride." 

Robin Hood dressed himself in shepherd's attire, 

With six of his men also; 
And, when the Bishop of Hereford came by. 

They about the fire did go. 

" O, what is the matter ? " then said the bishop, 

" Or for whom do you make this ado ? 
Or why do you kill the king's ven'son, 

When your company is so few ? " 

"We are shepherds," said bold Robin Hood, 

" And we keep sheep all the year; 
And we are disposed to be merry this day, 

And to kill of the king's fat deer." 



ROBIN HOOD OF SHERWOOD FOREST. 351 

'* You are brave fellows," said the bishop, 

" And the king of your doings shall know ; 
Therefore make haste, and come along with me, 

For before the king you shall go." 

*' O pardon, O pardon," said bold Robin Hood, 

" O pardon, I thee pray ; 
For it becomes not your lordship's coat 

To take so many lives away." 

*' No pardon, no pardon," said the bishop, 

" No pardon I thee owe ; 
Therefore make haste, and come along with me, 

For before the king you shall go." 

Then Robin he set his back against a tree. 

And his foot against a thorn, 
And from underneath his shepherd's coat 

He pulled out a bugle horn. 

He put the little end to his mouth. 

And a loud blast did he blow. 
Till threescore and ten of bold Robin's men 

Came running all in a row : 

All making obeisance to bold Robin Hood ; 

'Twas a comely sight for to see. 
" What is the matter, master," said Little John, 

•' That you blow so lustily ? " 

*' O here is the Bishop of Hereford, 

And no pardon we shall have." 
*' Cut off his head, master," said Little John, 

" And throw him into his grave." 

" O pardon, O pardon," said the bishop, 

" O pardon, I thee pray ; 
For if I had known it had been you, 

I'd have gone some other way." 

" No pardon, no pardon," said bold Robin Hood, 

" No pardon I thee owe ; 
Therefore make haste, and come along with me, 

For to merry Barnsdale you shall go." 

Then Robin he took the bishop by the hand. 

And led him to merry Barnsdale ; 
He made him stay and sup with him that night, 

And to drink wine, beer, and ale. 



352 THE KNIGHTS OF ENGLISH HISTORY. 

" Call in a reckoning," said the bishop, 
" For methinks it grows wondrous high." 

" Send me your purse, master," said Little John, 
" And I'll tell you bye and bye." 

Then Little John took the bishop's cloak, 

And spread it upon the ground. 
And out of the bishop's portmantua 

He told three hundred pound. 

" Here's money enough, master," said Little John, 
" And a comely sight 'tis to see ; 

It makes me in charity with the bishop. 
Though he heartily loveth not me." 

Robin Hood took the bishop by the hand. 
And he caused the music to play ; 

And he made the old bishop to dance in his boots, 
And glad to get so away. 




CHAPTER XXXy. 



EOBIN HOOD AND HIS ADVENTURES. 

" They say he is akeady in the forest of Arclen, and a many nieiTv men with 
him; and there they live like the old Robin Hood of England . . . and fleet the 
time carelessly as they did in the golden world." — As You Like It. 

AS has been already said, some of the ballad makers have 
so far erred from the truth as to represent Robin Hood 
as being outlawed by Henry VIII., and several stories are told 
of Queen Katherine's interceding with her husband for the 
pardon of the bold outlaw.* However this may be, it is 

* This seems to have been the opinion of the author from whom we draw the 
following account of our hero's life, — to show how the doctors will disagree even 
on a topic as important as Robin Hood : — 

The Noble Birth and the Achievements of Robin Hood. 
" Robin Hood was descended from the noble family of the Earl of Huntingdon, 
and being outlawed by Henry VIII. for many extravagancies and outrages he had 
committed, he did draw together a company of such bold and licentious persons as 
himself, who lived for the most part on robberies committed in or near unto Sher- 
wood Forest in Nottinghamshire. He had these always ready at his command, so that 
if need did require he at the winding of his horn would have fift}"^ or more of them iu 

353" 



354 THE KNIGHTS OF ENGLISH HISTORY. 

known that Robin Hood once shot a match on the queen's side 
against the king's archers, and here is the story : — 

Robin Hood on one occasion sent a present to Queen Kathe- 
rine with which she was so pleased that she swore she would 
be a friend to the noble outlaw as long as she might live. So 
one day the queen went to her chamber and called to her a 
page of her company and bade him make haste and prepare to 
ride to I^ottinghamshire to find Robin Hood in Sherwood For- 
est ; for the queen had made a match with the king, her archers 
against his archers, and the queen proposed to have Robin 
Hood and his band to shoot on her side against the king's 
archers. 

Now as for the page, he started for Nottingham and posted 
all the way, and inquired on the road for Robin Hood, where 
he might be, but he could not find any one who could let him 
know exactly. So he took uj) his quarters at an inn at Notting- 
ham. And in the room of the inn he sat him down and called 
for a bottle of Rhenish wine, and he drank the queen's health 
out of it. Now at his side was sitting a yeoman of the coun- 
try, clad in Lincoln green, with a long bow in his hand. And 
he turned tew the page and asked him, " What is thy business, 
my sweet boy, so far in the north country, for methinks you 
must come from London ? " So then the page told him that 
it was his business to find Robin Hood the outlaw, and for that 
he asked every yeoman that he met. And he asked his friend 



readiness to assist him. He whom he most affected was called Little John by- 
reason of his low stature, though not inferior to any of them in strength of body 
and stoutness of spirit. He would not entertain any into his service whom he 
had not first fought with himself and made sufficient trial of his courage and dex- 
terity how to use his weapons, which was the reason that oftentimes he came home 
hurt and beaten as he Avas ; which was nevertheless no occasion of the diminu- 
tion of his love to the person whom he fought with, for ever afterwards he would 
be the more familiar with him, and better respect him for it. Many petitions 
were referred to the king for a pardon for him, Avhich the king (understanding of 
the many mad pranks he and his associates played) would give no ear unto ; luit 
being attended with a considerable guard, did make a progress himself to find him 
out and bring him to condign punishment. At last, by the means and mediation 
of Queen Katherine the king's wrath was qualified, and his pardon sealed, and 
he spent his old age in peace, at a house of his own, not far from Nottingham, 
being generally beloved and respected by all." 



ROBm HOOD AND HIS ADVENTURES. 355 

if he knew anything which might help him. " Truly," said the 
yeoman, " that I do. And if you will get to horse early to- 
morrow morning I will show you Robin Hood and all his gay 
yeomen." 

•So the next morning they got them to horse and rode out 
into the forest, and the yeoman brought the page to where were 
Robin Hood and his yeomen. And the page fell down on his 
knee and said to Robin Hood, " Queen Katherine greets you 
well by me, and hath sent you this ring as a token. She bids 
you post up to London town, for that there shall be some sport 
there in Avhich she has a mind you shall have a hand." And 
at this Robin took off his mantle of Lincoln green from his 
back and sent it by the page to Queen Katherine with a 
promise that he and his band would follow him as soon as 
they might. 

So Robin Hood clothed all his men in Lincoln green and 
himself in scarlet, and each man wore a black hat with a white 
feather stuck therein. And thus Robin Hood and his band 
came up to London. And Robin fell down on his knees be- 
fore the queen, and she bade ]iim welcome with all his band. 
For the match between the queen's archers and the king's was 
to come off the next day in Finsbury fields. 

Here first came the king's archers marching with bold bear- 
ing, and then came Robin Hood and his archers for the queen. 
And they laid out the marks there. And the king laid a wager 
with the queen on the shooting. Now the wager was three 
hundred tun of Rhenish, and three hundred tun of good Eng- 
lish beer, and three hundred fat harts. So then the queen 
asked if there were any knights with the king who would take 
her side. But they were unwilling, for said they, " How shall 
we bet on these men whom we have never seen, when we know 
Clifton and the rest of the king's archers, and have seen them 
shoot?" Now tliis Clifton was one of the king's archers and a 
great boaster. And when he had reached the shooting field he 
had cried out, "Measure no marks for us, my lord the king, for 
we will shoot at the sun and moon." But for all that Robin 
Hood beat him at the shooting. And the queen asked the 
Bishop of Herefordshire to back her archers. But he swore 



356 THE KNIGHTS OF ENGLISH HISTORY. 

by his mitre that he would not bet a single penny on the queen's 
archers for he knew them not. " What will you bet against 
them," asked Robin Hood at this, " since you think our shoot- 
ing is the worse ? " " Truly," said the bishop, " I will bet all 
the money that may be in my purse," and he pulled it up from 
where it hung at his side. " What is in your purse ? " asked 
Robin Hood. And the bishop tossed it down on the ground, 
saying, "Fifteen rose-nobles, and that's an hundred pound." 
So Robin Hood tossed out a bag beside the bishop's purse on 
the green. 

And with that they began shooting, and shot three bouts 
and they came out even; the king's and the queen's. "The 
next three shots," said the king, " shall pay for all." And so 
the king's archers shot, and then Robin Hood, and Little John 
and Midge the miller's son shot for the queen, and came every 
man of them nearer the prick in the willow wand than did any 
of the king's men. So the queen's archers having beaten. 
Queen Katherine asked a boon of the kmg, and he granted it. 
" Give me, I pray you," said the queen, " safe conduct for the 
archers of my party to come and to go home and to stay in 
London here some time to enjoy themselves." " I grant it," 
said the king. " Then you are welcome, Robin Hood," said the 
queen, "and so is Little John and Midge the miller's son and 
every one of you." " Is this Robin Hood ? " asked the king, 
" for I had heard that he was killed in a quarrel in th« north 
country." And the bishop too asked, "Is this Robin Hood? 
If I had known that I would not have bet a penny with him. 
He took me one Saturday evening and bound me fast to a tree, 
and there he made me sing a mass for him and his yeomanry 
about." " Well, if I did," said Robin Hood, " surely I needed 
all the masses that I might get for my soul." And with that 
he and his yeomanry departed, and when their safe conduct 
was expired they journeyed north again to Sherwood Forest. 

Robin Hood and the Beggar. 

But Robin Hood, once having supplied himself with good 
store of money, which he had gotten of the sheriff of Not- 



EOBIN HOOD AXD HIS ADVENTURES. 357 

tiugham, bought him a stout gelding, and riding on him one 
day towards Xottingham, it was his fortune to meet with a 
poor beggar. Eobin Hood was of a frolic spirit, and no ac- 
cepter of 23ersons ; but observing the beggar to have several 
sorts of bags, which were fastened to his patched coat, he 
did ride up to him, and giving him the time of day, he de- 
manded of him what countryman he was. " A Yorkshire- 
man," said the beggar ; " and I would desire of you to give 
me something." "Give thee!" said Robin Hood; "why, I 
have nothing to give thee. I am a poor ranger in the forest, 
and thou seemest to be a lusty knave ; shall I give thee a good 
bastinado over thy shoulders ? " " Content, content," said the 
beggar ; " I durst lay all my bags to a threaden joust, thou 
wilt repent it." With that Robin Hood alighted, and the beg- 
gar, with his long quart erstaff, so well defended himself, that, 
let Robin Hood do what he could, he could not come within 
the beggar, to flash him to a remembrance of his overboldness ; 
and nothing vexed him more than to find that the beggar's 
staff was as hard and as obdurate as iron itself; but not so 
Robin Hood's head, for the beggar with all his force did let 
his staff descend with such a side blow, that Robin Hood, 
for all his skill, could not defend it, but the blood came trick- 
ling down his face, which, turning Robin Hood's courage into 
revenge and fury, he let fly at him with his trusty sword, and 
doubled blow upon blow ; but perceiving that the beggar did 
hold him so hard to it that one of his blows was but the fore- 
runner of another, and every blow to be almost the Postilion 
of Death, he cried out to him to hold his hand. "That will I 
not do," said the beggar, " unless thou wilt resign unto me thy 
horse, and thy sword, and thy clothes, with all the money thou 
hast in thy pockets." " The change is uneven," said Robin 
Hood, " but for once I am content." 

So, putting on the beggar's clothes, the beggar was the gen- 
tleman, and Robin Hood was the beggar, who, entering into 
Xottingham town with his patched coat and several wallets, 
understood that three brethren were that day to suffer at the 
gallows, being condemned for killing the king's deer, he made 
no more ado, but went directly to the sheriff's house, where a 



358 THE KNIGHTS OF ENGLISH HISTORY. 

young gentleman, seeing him to stand at the door, demanded 
of Mm what he would have. Robin Hood returned answer 
that he came to crave neither meat nor drink, but the lives of 
those three brothers Avho were condemned to die. " That 
cannot be," said the young gentleman, "for they are all this 
day to suffer according to law, for stealing of the king's deer, 
and they are already conveyed out of the town to the place of 
execution." "I will be Avith them presently," said Robin 
Hood, and coming to the gallows he found many making great 
lamentation for them. Robin Hood did comfort them, and 
assured them they should not die ; and blowing his horn, 
behold on a sudden a hundred brave archers came unto him, 
by whose help, having released the prisoners, and killed the 
hangman, and hurt many of the sheriff's officers, they took 
those who were condemned to die for killing the king's deer 
along with them, who, being very thankful for the preservation 
of their lives, became afterwards of the yeomanry of Robin 
Hood. 

Robin Hood and King Richard. 

Now King Richard, hearing of the deeds of Robin Hood and 
his men, wondered much at them, and desired greatly himself to 
see him, and his men as well. So he with a dozen of his lords 
rode to Nottingham town and there took up his abode. And 
being at Nottingham, the king one day with his lords i3ut on 
friars' gowns every one, and rode forth from Fountain Abbey 
down to Barnsdale. And as they were riding there they saw 
Robin Hood and all his band standing ready to assail them. 
The king, being taller than the rest, was thought by Robin to 
be the abbot. So he made up to him, and seized his horse by 
the head, and bade him stand. " For," said he, " it is against 
such knaves as you that I am bound to make war." " But," 
said the king himself, " we are messengers from the king, who 
is but a little away, waiting to speak with you." " God save 
the king," said Robin Hood, "and all his well-wishers. And 
accursed be every one who may deny his sovereignty." "You 
are cursing yourself," said the king, " for you are a traitor." 
"Now," said Robin Hood, "if you were not the king's mes- 



ROBIN HOOD AND HIS ADVENTURES. 359 

senger, I would make you rue that word of yours. I am as 
true a man to the king as lives. And I never yet injured 
any honest man and true, hut only those who make their living 
by stealing from others. I have never in my life harmed either 
husbandman or huntsman. But my chief spite lies against 
the clergy, who have in these days great power. But I am 
right glad to have met you here. Come with me, and you 
shall taste our oTeenvv'ood cheer." But the kino^ and his lords 
marvelled, wondering what kind of cheer Robin might provide 
for them. And Robin took the king's horse by the head, and 
led him towards his tent. " It is because thou comest from 
the king," said he, " that I use you in this wise; and hadst thou 
as much gold as ever I had, it should be all of it safe for good 
King Richard's sake." And with that he took out his horn, 
and blew on it a loud blast. And thereat came marching 
forth from the wood five score and ten of Robin's followers, 
and each one bent the knee before Robin Hood. "Surely," 
thought the king, "it is a goodly sight to see; for they are 
more humble to their master than my servants are to me. 
Here may the court learn something from the greenwood." 
And here they laid a dinner for the king and his lords, and 
the king swore that he had never feasted better. Then Robin 
Hood, taking a can of ale, said, " Let us now begin, each man 
with his can. Here's a health to the king." And they all 
drank the health to the king, the king himself, as well as 
another. 

And after the dinner they all took their bows, and showed 
the king such archery that the king said he had never seen 
such men as they in any foreign land. And then said the 
king to Robin Hood, "If I could get thee a pardon from King 
Richard, wouldst thou serve the king well in everything?" 
"Yes, with all my heart," said Robin. And so said all his 
men. 

And with that the king declared himself to them, and said, 
" I am the king, your sovereign, that is now before you." 
And at this Robin and all his men fell down on their knees; 
but the king raised them up, saying to them that he pardoned 
each one of them, and that they should every one of them be 



360 THE KNIGHTS OF ENGLISH HISTORY. 

in his service. So the king returned to Nottingham, and with 
him returned Robin Hood and his men, to the great joy of the 
townspeople, whom they had for a long time sorely vexed. 

" And they are gone to London court, 
Robin Hood and all his train ; 
He once was there a noble peer, 
And now he's there again." 



The Death of Kobix Hood. 

But Robin Hood returned to Sherwood Forest, and there 
met his death. For one day, being wounded in a fight, he fled 
out of the battle with Little John. And being at some dis- 
tance, Robin Hood said to his lieutenant, " Now truly I can- 
not shoot even one shot more, for the arrows will not fly. For 
I am sore wounded. So I will go to my cousin, the abbess, 
who dw^elleth near here in Kirkley Hall, and she shall bleed 
me, that I may be well again." So Robin Hood left Little 
John, and he went his way to Kirkley ; and reaching the Hall, 
his strength nearly left him, yet he knocked heavily at the 
door. And his cousin came down first to let him in. And 
when she saw him she knew" that it was her cousin Robin 
Hood, and she received him with a joyful face. Then said 
Robin, " You see me, my cousin, how weak I am. Therefore 
I pray you to bleed me, that I may be whole again." And his 
cousin took him by the hand, and led him into an upper room, 
and laid him on a bed, and she bled him. But the treacherous 
woman tied not up the vein again, but left him so that his life 
began to flow from him. And he, finding his strength leaving 
him, thought to escape ; but he could not, for the door was 
locked, and the casement window was so high that he might 
not leap down from it. Then, knowing that he must die, he 
reached forth his hand to his bugle horn, which lay by him on 
the bed. And setting the horn to his mouth, he blew weakly, 
though with all his strength, three blasts upon it. And Little 
John, as he sat under the tree in the greenwood, heard his 
blowing, and he said, " Now must Robin be near death, for his 
blast is very weak." 



ROBIN HOOD AND HIS ADVENTURES. ' 361 

And he got up and ran to Kirkley Hall as fast as he might. 
And coming to the door, he found it locked ; but he broke it 
down, and so came to Kobin Hood. And coming to the bed, 
he fell upon his knees, and said, " Master, I beg a boon of 
thee, — that thou lettest me burn down Kirkley Hall and all 
the nunnery." " Nay," quoth Robin Hood ; " nay, I cannot 
grant you your boon ; for never in my life did I hurt woman, 
or man in woman's company, nor shall it be done w^hen I die. 
But for me, give me my long bow, and I will let fly an arrow, 
and where you shall find the arrow, there bury me. And 
make my grave long and broad, that I may rest easily; and 
place my head upon a green sod, and place my bow at my 
side." And these words Little John readily promised him, so 
that Robin Hood was pleased. And they buried him as he 
had asked, an arrow-shot from Kirklev Hall. 



c^- 




CHAPTER XXXVI. 



CHEVY CHASE. 



" The Perse out of Northuraberlande, 
And a vowc to God niayde he, 
That he wold hunte in the mountayns 

Off Chyviat within days thre, 
In the niauger of dous'hte Dogles, 
And all that ever with him be." 

Percy : Reliques of Ancient Poetry. 

SCARCELY less famous than Robin Hood as a subject for 
ballad makers was the battle of Chevy Chase. This battle 
Avas one of the many struggles rising out of the never-ending 
border quarrels between Scotland and England, of which poets 
are never tired of singing. Sometimes the Earl of Douglas, 
the great Scotch border-lord, would make an incursion into 
Northumberland, and then to revenge the insult Lord Percy 
would come riding over the Tweed into Scotland. 

In the battle of Clievy Cliase it would seem as if Earl Percy 
was the as-sfressor. As a matter of fact it mattered little which 
362 



CHEVY CHASE. 363 

began the quarrel at any particular time. The feud was ever 
smouldering, and needed little to make it burst forth. 

THE BALLAD OF CHEVY CHASE. 

God prosper long our noble king, 

Our lives and safetyes all; 
A woefull hunting once there did 
In Chevy Chase befall. 

To drive the deer with hound and home, 

Erie Percy took his way, 
The child may rue that is unborne 

The hunting of that day. 

The stout Erie of Northumberland 

A vow to God did make. 
His pleasure in the Scottish woods 

Three summer days to take ; 

The clieefest harts in Chevy Chase 

To kill and bear away. 
These tidings to Erie Douglas came. 

In Scotland where he lay, 

"Who sent Erie Percy present word 

He would prevent his sport. 
The English Erie not fearing that. 

Did to the woods resort. 

With fifteen hundred bowmen bold ; 

All chosen men of might. 
Who knew full well in time of neede 

To ayme their shafts aright. 

The gallant greyhounds swiftly ran 

To chase the fallow deere : 
On Monday they began to hunt 

Ere daylight did appear ; 

And long before high noon they had 

An hunch-ed fat buckes slaine ; 
Then having dined the drovj-ers went 

To rouse the deer again. 

The bowmen mustered on the hill, 

"Well able to endure ; 
Their backsides all, with special care, 

That da}' were guarded sure. 



364 THE KNIGHTS OF ENGLISH HISTORY. 



The hounds ran swiftly through the woods, 

The nimble deere to take, 
That with their cryes the hills and dales 

An eccho shrill did make. 

Lord Percy to the quarry went, 
To view the slaughtered deer ; 

Quoth he, Erie Douglas promised 
This day to meet me he ere ; 

But if I thought he would not come, 

Noe longer would I stay. 
With that a brave young gentleman 

Thus to the Erie did say : — 

Loe, yonder doth Erie Douglas come, 

His men in armour bright; 
Full twenty hundred Scottish speres 

All marching in our sight ; 

All men of pleasant Tivydale, 
Fast by the river Tweede : 

cease your sports, Erie Percy said, 
And take your bowes with speede. 

And now with me, my countrymen. 

Your courage forth advance ; 
For there Avas never champion yett 

In Scotland or in France, 

That ever did on horseback come, 
But if my hap it were, 

1 durst encounter man for num, 

With him to break a spere. 

Erie Douglas on his mUk- white steede, 

Most like a baron bold, 
Eode foremost of his company, 

Whose armour shone like gold. 

Show me, sayd he, whose men you be, 

That hunt so boldly heere. 
That without my consent doe chase 

And kill my fallow deere. 

The first man that did answer make 

Was noble Percy he ; 
Who sayd, We list not to declare. 

Nor show whose men we be. 



CHEVY CHASE. 365 

Yet we will spend our deerest blood, 

Thy cheefest harts to slay. 
The Douglas swore a solempne oathe, 

And thus in rage did say, 

Ere thus I will outbraved be, 

One of us two shall dye : 
I know thee well, an erle thou art ; 

Lord Percy, soe am I. 

But trust me, Percy, pittye it were 

And great oiFence to kill 
Any of these our guiltless men, 

F-or they have done no ill. 

Let thou and I the battell trye. 

And set our men aside. 
Accurst be he, Erie Percy sayd, 

By whom this is denyed. 

Then stept a gallant squier forth, 

Witherington was his name, 
Who said, I wold not have it told 

To Henry our king for shame, 

That ere my captaine fought on foot 

And I stood looking on. 
You be two erles, sayd Witherington, 

And I a squier alone : 

He doe the best that doe I may, 

While I have power to stand : 
While I have power to wield my sword. 

He fight with hart and hand. 

Our English archers bent their bowes 

Their harts Avere good and trcw ; 
At the first flight of arrowes sent, 

Full fourscore Scots they slew. 

Yet bides Erie Douglas on the bent, 

As cheeftain stout and good. 
As valiant captain, all unmoved. 

The shock he firmly stood. 

His host he parted had in three, 

As leader ware and tryd. 
And soon his spearmen on his foes 

Bare down on everv side. 



366 THE KNIGHTS OF ENGLISH HISTORY. 

To drive the cleere with hound and home, 
Douglass bade on the bent : 

Two captaines moved with mickle might 
Their speares to shivers went. 

Throughout the English archery 
They dealt full many a wound ; 

But still our valiant Englishmen 
All firmly kept their ground : 

And throwing straight their bowes away, 
They grasped their swords so bright : 

And now sharp blows, a heavy shower, 
On shields and helmets light. 

They closed full fast on every side. 
No slackness there was found ; 

And many a gallant gentleman 
Lay gasping on the ground. 

I O Christ ! it was a griefe to see, 

And likewise for to heare, 
The cries of men lying in their gore, 
And scattered here and there. 

At last these two stout erles did meet, 
Like captaines of great might ; 

Like lyons wood, they layd on lode 
And made a cruell fight : 

They fought until they both did sweat, 
"With swords of tempered Steele ; 

Until the blood, like drops of rain. 
They trickling down did feele. 

Yield thee, Lord Percy, Douglas sayd ; 

In faith I will thee bringe, 
Where thou shalt high advanced be 

By James our Scottish king : 

Thy ransome I will freely give, 

And this report of thee : 
Thou art the most courageous knight 

That ever. I did see. 

Noe, Douglas, quoth Erie Percy then, 

Thy proffer I do scorne ; 
I will not yield to any Scott, 

That ever yet was borne. 



CHEM' CHASE. 367 

"With that there came an arrow keene, 

Out of an English bow, 
Which struck Erie Douglas to the heart, 

A deepe and deadly blow : 

Who never spake more words than these, 

Fight on, my merry men all ; 
For why, my life is at an end ; 

Lord Percy sees my fall. 

Then leaving liife, Erie Percy tooke 

The dead man by the hand ; 
And said, Erie Douglas, for thy life 

Wold I have lost my land. 

O Christ, my veiy hait doth bleed 

With sorrow for thy sake ; 
For sure a more redoubted knight 

Mischance cold never take. 

A knight among the Scotts there was 

Who saw Erie Douglas dye. 
Who streight in wrath did vow revenge 

Upon the Lord Percy. 

Sir Hugh Montgomery was he called, 

Who, Avith a spear most bright. 
Well mounted on a gallant steed. 

Ran fiercely through the fight ; 

And past the English archers all, 

Without all dread and feare ; 
And through Earl Percy's body then 

He thrust his hatefull speare ; 

With such a vehement force and might 

He did his body gore. 
The staff ran through the other side 

A large cloth-yard or more. 

So thus did both these nobles dye. 

Whose courage none could staine : 
An English archer then perceived 

The noble erle was slaine ; 

He had a bow bent in his hand, 

Made of a trusty tree ; 
An arrow of a cloth-yard long 

Up to the head drew he : 



368 THE KNIGHTS OF ENGLISH HISTORY. 

Against Sir Hngh Montgomery, 

So right the shaft he sett, 
The grey goose-wing that was thereon, 

In his hart's blood was Avett. 

This fight did last from break of day 

Till setting of the sun ; 
For when they rang the evening-bell 

The battle scarce was done. 

With stoute Erie Percy there Avas slaine 

Sir John of Egerton, 
Sir Robert Ratcliif, and Sir John, 

Sir James that bold barren : 

And with Sir George and stoute Sir James 
Both knights of good account. 

Good Sir Ralph Raby there Avas slaine, 
Whose proAvese did surmount. 

For Witherington my heart is Avoe, 
That CA-er he slain should be ; 

For when his legs Avere hcAvn in tAvo 
He knelt and fought on his knee. 

And Avith Erie Douglas there AA'as slaine 

Sir Hugh Montgomery, 
Sir Charles ^Murray, that from the field 

One foot wold ncAcr flee. 

Sir Charles ]\Iurray, of Ratcliff too, 

His sister's sonne Avas he ; 
. Sir DaA'id Lamb, so Avell esteem'd, 
Yet saved cold not be, 

And the Lord ^MaxAvell in like case 
Did Avith Erie Douglass dye : 

Of twenty hundred Scottish spcres 
Scarce fifty-five did flye. 

Of fifteen hundred Englishmen, 
Went home but fifty-three ; 

The rest Avere slaine in ChcA'y Chase, 
Under the greene Avoode tree. 

Next day did many AvidoAves come, 
Their husbands to bewayle ; 

They Avashed their Avounds in bi-inish teares, 
But all wold not prevayle. 



CHEVY CHASE. 369 

Theyr bodyes, bathed in piirple gore, 

They bore with them away ; 
They kist them dead a thousand times, 

Ere they were cladd in clay. 

The newes was brought to Eddenborrow, 

Where Scotland's king did raigne, 
That brave Erie Douglas suddenlye 

Was with an arrow slaine. 

heavy newes, King James did say, 
Scotland may witness be, 

1 have not any captain more 
Of such account as he. 

Like tydings to King Henry came. 

Within as short a space, 
That Percy of Northumberland 

Was slaine in Chevy Chase : 

Now God be with him, said the king, 

Sith it will noe better be ; 
I trust I have within my realme, 

Five hundred as good as he. 

Yet shall not Scotts nor Scotland say, 

But I will vengeance take ; 
He be revenged on them all 

For brave Erie Percy's sake. 

This vow full well the king performed 

After at Humbledowne ; 
In one day fifty knights were slaine. 

With lords of great renowne ; 

And of the rest of small account, 

Did many thousands dye : 
Thus endeth the hunting of Chevy Chase 

Made by the Erie Percy. 

God save our king, and bless this land 

With plentye, joy, and peace ; 
And grant henceforth that foule debate 

'Twixt noblemen may cease. 




CHAPTER XXXVII. 



THE BATTLE OF OTTERBOURNE. 



It fell about a Lamass-tide, 

When husbands wynn their hay, 
The doug-hty Douglas bound him to ride 

In England to take a pray. 

ANOTHER famous battle in tlie border-warfare between 
England and Scotland was fought at Otterbourne. This 
is a town in Xorthumberland, and here, as in Chevy Chase, the 
Douglas and the Percy matched their strength. Earl Douglas 
was killed in the fight, and Sir Henry Percy, called Hotspur, 
was taken prisoner. The story as it is told here is from the 
works of that most entertaining and long-winded historian of 
chivalry, Sir John Froissart. 

We begin in medias res with a Scotch foray, in which the 
Douglas, with the Earl of March and Dunbar and the Earl of 
Moray, has penetrated as far into England as the city of Dur- 
ham and is now returning to Scotland. 

The three Scots lords, having completed the object of their 
expedition into Durham, lay before Newcastle three days, where 
370 



THE BATTLE OF OTTERBOURNE. 371 

there was an almost continual skirmish. The sons of the earl 
of Northumberland, from their great courage, were always the 
first at the barriers, where many valiant deeds were done with 
lances hand to hand. The earl of Douglas had a long conflict 
with Sir Henry Percy, and in it, by gallantry of arms, won his 
pennon, to the great vexation of Sir Henry and the other Eng- 
lish. The earl of Douglas said, "I will carry this token of 
your prowess with me to Scotland, and place it on the tower 
of my castle at Dalkeith, that it may be seen from afar." " By 
Heaven, Earl of Douglas," replied Sir Henry, " you shall not 
even bear it out of Northumberland : be assured you shall 
never have this pennon to brag of." "You must come then," 
answered Earl Douglas, " this night and seek for it. I will fix 
your pennon before my tent, and shall see if you will venture 
to take it away." 

As it was now late the skirmish ended, and each party re- 
tired to their quarters to disarm and comfort themselves. 
They had plenty of everything, particularly flesh meat. The 
Scots kept up a very strict watch, concluding from the words 
of Sir Henry Percy they should have their quarters beaten up 
this night ; they were disapj^ointed, for Sir Henry Percy was 
advised to defer it. 

On the morrow the Scots dislodged from before Newcastle ; 
and, taking the road to their own country, they came to a town 
and castle called Ponclau, of which Sir Raymond de Laval, 
a very valiant knight of Northumberland, was the lord. They 
halted there about four o'clock in the morning, as they learned 
the knight to be wdthin it, and made preparations for the as- 
sault. This was done with such courage that the place was 
won, and the knight made prisoner. After they had burnt the 
town and castle, they marched away for Otterbourne, which 
was eight English leagues from Newcastle, and there encamped 
themselves. This day they made no attack ; but very early on 
the morrow their trumpets sounded, and they made ready for 
the assault, advancing towards the castle, which was tolerably 
strong, and situated among the marshes. They attacked it so 
long and so unsuccessfully that they were fatigued, and there- 
fore sounded a retreat. When they had retired to their quar- 



372 THE KNIGHTS OF ENGLISH HISTORY. 

ters, the chiefs held a council how to act ; and the greater part 
were for decamping on the morrow, without attempting more 
against the castle, to join their countrymen in the neighbor- 
hood of Carlisle. But the earl of Douglas overruled this by 
saying, " In despite of Sir Henry Percy, who the day before 
yesterday declared he would take from me his pennon, that I 
conquered by fair deeds of arms before Newcastle, I will not 
return home for two or three days ; and we will renew our at- 
tack on the castle, for it is to be taken : we shall thus gain 
double honor, and see if within that time he will come for his 
pennon ; if he do it shall be well defended." Every one agreed 
to what Earl Douglas had said ; for it was not only honorable, 
but he was the principal commander ; and from affection to 
him they quietly returned to their quarters. They made huts 
of trees and branches, and strongly fortified themselves. They 
placed their baggage and servants at the entrance of the marsh 
on the road to Newcastle, and the cattle tliey drove into the 
marsh lands. 

I will return to Sir Henry and Sir Ralph Percy, who were 
greatly mortified that the earl of Douglas should have con- 
quered their pennon in the skirmish before Newcastle. They 
felt the more for this disgrace because Sir Henry had not kept 
his word ; for he had told the earl that he should never carry 
his pennon out of England, and this he explained to the knights 
who were with him in Newcastle. The English imagined 
the army under the earl of Douglas to be only the van of the 
Scots, and that the main body was behind ; for which reason 
those knights who had the most experience in arms, and were 
best acquainted Avith warlike affairs, strongly opposed the pro- 
posal of Sir Henry Percy to pursue them. They said, " Sir, 
many losses happen in war: if the earl of Douglas has won 
your pennon he has bought it dear enough ; for he has come to 
the gates to seek it, and has been well fought with. Another 
time you will gain from him as much if not more. We say so, 
because you know as well as w^e do that the whole power of 
Scotland has taken the field. We are not sufficiently strong 
to offer them battle ; and perhaps this skirmish may have been 
only a trick to draw us out of the towm ; and if they be, as 



THE BATTLE OF OTTERBOURNE. 373 

reported, forty thousand strong, tliey will surround us, and 
have us at their mercy. It is much better to lose a pennon 
than two or three hundred knights and squires, and leave our 
country in a defenceless state." This speech checked the eager- 
ness of the two brothers Percy, for they would not act con- 
trary to the opinion of the council; when other news was 
brought them by some knights and squires who had followed 
and observed the Scots, their numbers, disposition, and where 
they had halted. This was all fully related by knights who 
had traversed the whole extent of country the Scots had passed 
through, that they might carry to their lords the most exact 
information. They thus spoke : " Sir Henry and Sir Ralph 
Percy, we come to tell you that we have followed the Scottish 
army, and observed all the country where they now are. They 
first halted at Ponclau, and took Sir Raymond de Laval in his 
castle ; thence they went to Otterbourne, and took up their 
quarters for the night. We are ignorant of what they did on 
the morrow, but they seem to have taken measures for a long- 
stay. We know for certain that their army does not consist 
of more than three thousand men, including all sorts." Sir 
Henry Percy on hearing this was greatly rejoiced, and cried 
out, " To horse ! to horse I for by the faith I owe my God, and 
to my lord and father, I will seek to recover my pennon and to 
beat up their quarters this night." Such knights and squires in 
Newcastle as learned this were willing to be of the party, and 
made themselves ready. 

The Bishop of Durham was expected daily at the town ; for 
he had heard of the irruption of the Scots, and that they w^ere 
before it, in which were the sons of the Earl of Northumber- 
land preparing to offer them combat. The bishop had col- 
lected a number of men, and was hastening to their assistance, 
but Sir Henry Percy would not wait ; for he was accompanied 
by six hundred spears, of knights and squires, and upwards of 
eight thousand infantry, which he said would be more than 
enough to fight the Scots, who were but three hundred lances and 
two thousand others. When they were all assembled they left 
Newcastle after dinner, and took the field in o-ood array, fol- 
lowing the road the Scots had taken, makino< for Otterbourne, 



374 THE KNIGHTS OF ENGLISH HISTOKY. 

which was eight short leagues distant; but they could not 
advance very fast, that their infantry might keep up with 
them. 

As the Scots were supping, — some indeed had gone to sleep, 
for they had labored hard during the day at the attack of the 
attack of the castle, and intended renewing it in the cool of 
the morning, — the English arrived, and mistook, at their en- 
trance, the huts of the servants for those of their masters. 
They forced their way into the camp, which was, however, tol- 
erably strong, shouting out, " Percy ! Percy ! " In such cases 
you may suppose an alarm is soon given, and it was fortunate 
for the Scots that the English had made their first attack on the 
servants' quarters, which checked them some little. The Scots, 
expecting the English, had j^i'epared accordingly; for while 
the lords were arming themselves they ordered a body of in- 
fantry to join their servants and keep up the skirmish. As 
their men were armed, they formed themselves under the pen- 
nons of the three i^rincipal barons, who each had his particular 
appointment. In the meantime the night advanced, but it was 
sufficiently light, for the moon shone, and it was the month 
of August, when the weather is temperate and serene. 
' When the Scots were quite ready, and properly arrayed, they 
left their camp in silence, but did not march to meet the Eng- 
lish. They skirted the side of the mountain which was hard 
by ; for during the preceding day they had well examined the 
country round, and said among themselves, "Should the Eng- 
lish come to beat up our quarters we will do so and so," and 
thus settled their plans beforehand, which was the saving of 
them ; for it is of the greatest advantage to men-at-arms when 
attacked in the night to have j^reviously arranged their mode 
of defence, and well to have weighed the chance of victory or 
defeat. The English had soon overpowered their servants; 
but as they advanced into the camp they found fresh bodies 
ready to oppose them, and to continue the fight. The Scots, 
in the meantime, marched along the mountain side, and fell 
upon the enemy's flank quite unexpectedly, shouting their cries. 
This was a great surprise to the English, who however formed 
themselves in better order and reinforced that part of their 



THE BATTLE OF OTTEllBOUKNE. 375 

army. The cries of Percy and Douglas resounded on either 
side. 

The battle now raged : great was the pushing of lances, and 
very many of each party was struck down at the first onset. The 
English being more numerous, and anxious to defeat the 
enemy, kept in a compact body, and forced the Scots to re- 
tire, who were on the point of being discomfited. The earl 
of Douglas being young, and impatient to gain renown in arms, 
ordered his banner to advance, shouting, " Douglas ! Douglas ! " 
Sir Henry and Sir Ralph Percy, indignant for the affront the 
earl of Douglas had put on them, by conquering their pennon, 
and desirous of meeting him, hastened to the place from whence 
the sounds came, calling out, "Percy ! Percy ! " The two ban- 
ners met, and many gallant deeds of arms ensued. The Eng- 
lish were in superior strength, and fought so lustily that they 
drove back the Scots. Sir Patrick Hepburn and his son of the 
same name did honor to their knighthood and country by their 
gallantry, under the banner of Douglas, which would have 
been conquered but for the vigorous defence they made ; and 
this circumstance not only contributed to their personal credit, 
but the memory of it is continued with honor to their descend- 
ants. 

The knights and squires of either party were anxious to 
continue the combat with vigor as long as their spears might 
be capable of holding. Cowardice was there unknown, and 
the most splendid courage was everywhere exhibited by the 
gallant youths of England and Scotland ; they were so closely 
intermixed that the archers' bows were useless, and they 
fought hand to hand, without either battalion giving way. 
The Scots behaved most valiantly, for the English were three 
to one. I do not mean to say the English did not acquit 
themselves well ; for they would sooner be slain or made pris- 
oners in battle than reproached with flight. As I before men- 
tioned, the two banners of Douglas and Percy met, and the 
men-at-arms under each exerted themselves by every means to 
gain the victory ; but the English, at this attack, were so 
much the stronger, that the Scots were driven back. The 
earl of Douglas, who was of a high spirit, seeing his men 



376 THE KNIGHTS OF ENGLISH HISTORT. 

repulsed, seized a battle-axe with both his hauds, like a gallant 
knight, and to rally his men dashed into the midst of his ene- 
mies, and gave such blows on all around him that no one could 
withstand them, but all made w'ay for him on every side; for 
there was none so w^ell armed with helmets and plates but that 
they suffered from his battle-axe. Thus he advanced, like 
another Hector, thinking to recover and conquer the field, 
from his own prowess, until he was met by three spears that 
were pointed at him. One struck him on the shoulder, an- 
other on the stomach, and the third entered his thigh. He 
could never disengage himself from these spears, but was 
borne to the ground, fighting desperately. From that time he 
never rose again. Some of his knights and squires had fol- 
lowed him, but not all ; for, though the moon shone, it was 
rather dark. The three English lancers knew that they had 
struck down some person of considerable rank, but never 
thought it was Earl Douglas. Had they known it, they would 
have been so rejoiced that their courage would have been 
redoubled, and the fortune of the day had consequently been 
determined to their side. The Scots were ignorant also of 
their loss until the battle Avas over, otherwise they would cer- 
tainly, from desjDair, have been discomfited. 

I will relate what befell the earl afterward. As soon as he 
fell, his head was cleaved by a battle-axe, the spear thrust 
through his thigh, and the main body of the English marched 
over him, without paying any attention, not suj)posing him to 
be their principal enemy. In another part of the field, the 
earl of March and Dunbar combated valiantly ; and the Eng- 
lish gave the Scots full employment who had followed the earl 
of Douglas, and had engaged with the two Percies. The earl 
of Moray behaved so gallantly in pursuing the English, that 
they knew not how to resist him. Of all the battles that have 
been described in this history, great and small, this of which I 
am now speaking was the best fought and the most severe ; 
for there was not a man, knight, or squire who did not acquit 
himself gallantly, hand to hand with the enemy. It resembled 
something tliat of Cocherel, which was as long and as hardily 
disputed. The sons of the earl of Northumberland, Sir 



THE BATTLE OF OTTERBOURNE. 377 

Henry and Sir Kalpli Percy, who were the leaders of this 
expedition, behaved themselves like good knights in the com- 
bat. Almost a similar accident befel Sir Ralph as that which 
happened to the earl of Douglas ; for, having advanced too 
far, he was surrounded by the enemy and severely wounded, 
and, being out of breath, surrendered himself to a Scots 
knight, called Sir John Maxwell, who was under the com- 
mand and of the household of the earl of Moray. 

When made prisoner, the knight asked him who he was, for 
it was dark, and he knew him not. Sir Ralph was so weak- 
ened by loss of blood, which was flowing from his wound, 
that he could scarcely avow himself to be Sir Ralph Percy. 
"Well," replied the knight, "Sir Ralph, rescued or not, you 
are my prisoner ; my name is Maxwell." " I agree to it," said 
Sir Ralph. "But pay some attention to me ; for I am so des- 
perately wounded, that my drawers and greaves are full of 
blood." Upon this the Scots knight was very attentive to him ; 
when suddenly hearing the cry of Moray hard by, and per- 
ceiving the earl's banner advancing to him. Sir John addressed 
himself to the earl of Moray, and said, " My lord, I present 
you with Sir Ralph Percy as a prisoner; but let good care be 
taken of him, for he is very badly wounded." The earl was 
much pleased at this, and replied, "Maxwell, thou hast well 
earned thy spurs this day." He then ordered his men to take 
every care of Sir Ralph, who bound up and staunched his 
wounds. The battle still continued to rage, and no one could 
say at that moment which side would be the conqueror, for 
there were very many captures and rescues that never came to 
my knowledge. 

The young earl of Douglas had this night performed won- 
ders in arms. When he was struck down there was a great 
crowd round him, and he could not raise himself; for the blow 
on his head was mortal. His men had followed him as closely 
as they were able, and there came to him his cousins, Sir 
James Lindsay, Sir John and Sir Walter Sinclair, with other 
knights and squires. They found by his side a gallant knight, 
that had constantly attended him, who was his chaplain, and 
had at this time exchanged his profession for that of a valiant 



378 THE KNIGHTS OF ENGLISH HISTORY. 

man-at-arms. The whole night he had followed the earl, with 
his battle-axe in hand, and had by his exertions more than 
once repelled the English. This conduct gained the thanks of 
his countrymen, and turned out to his advantage, for in the 
same year he was promoted to the archdeaconry, and made 
canon of Aberdeen. His name was Sir William of N"orth 
Berwick. To say the truth, he was well formed in all his 
limbs to shine in battle, and was severely wounded at this 
combat. When these knights came to the earl of Douglas 
they found him in a melancholy state, as well as one of his 
knights. Sir Robert Hart, who had fought by his side the 
whole of the night, and now lay beside him, covered with 
fifteen wounds from lances and other weapons. 

Sir John Sinclair asked the earl, "Cousin, how fares it with 
you?" "But so so," replied he. "Thanks to God, there are 
but few of my ancestors who have died in chambers or in 
their beds. I bid you, therefore, revenge my death, for I have 
but little hope of living, as my heart becomes every minute 
more faint. Do you, Walter- and Sir John Sinclair, raise up 
my banner, for certainly it is on the ground, from the death of 
David Campbell, that valiant squire who bore it, and who re- 
fused knighthood from my hands this day, though he was 
equal to the most eminent knights for courage and loyalty; 
and continue to shout ' Douglas ! ' but do not tell friend or foe 
whether I am in your company or not ; for, should the enemy 
know the truth, they will be greatly rejoiced." 

The two brothers Sinclair and Sir John Lindsay obeyed his 
orders. The banner was raised, and " Douglas ! " shouted. 
Their men, who had remained behind, hearing the shouts of 
" Douglas ! " so often repeated, ascended a small eminence, 
and pushed their lances with such courage that the English 
were repulsed, and many killed or struck to the ground. The 
Scots, by thus valiantly driving the enemy beyond the spot 
where the earl of Douglas lay dead, — for he had expired on 
giving his last orders, — arrived at his banner, which was 
borne by Sir John Sinclair. Numbers were continually in- 
creasing, from the repeated shouts of " Douglas ! " and the 
greater part of the Scots knights and squires were now there. 



THE BATTLE OF OTTERBOURNE. 379 

The earls of Moray and March, with their banners and men, 
came thither also. When they were all thus collected, j^er- 
ceiving the English retreat, they renewed the battle with 
greater vigor than before. 

To say the truth, the English had harder work than the 
Scots, for they had come by a forced march that evening from 
Newcastle-on-Tyne, which was eight English leagues distant, 
to meet the Scots, by which means the greater part were ex- 
ceedingly fatigued before the combat began. The Scots, on 
the contrary, had reposed themselves, which was to them of 
the utmost advantage, as was apparent from the event of the 
battle. In this last attack they so completely repulsed the 
English, that the latter could never rally again, and the former 
drove them far beyond where the earl of Douglas lay on the 
ground. Sir Henry Percy, during this attack, had the misfor- 
tune to fall into the hands of the Lord Montgomery, a very 
valiant knight of Scotland. They had long fought hand to 
hand with much valor, and without hindrance from any one ; 
for there was neither knight nor squire of either party who 
did not find there his equal to fight with, and all were fully 
engaged. In the end. Sir Henry was made prisoner by the 
Lord Montgomery. 




CHAPTER XXXVIII. 

EDWAKD THE BLACK PRINCE. 
"ICH DIEK." 

THE last hero of English chivalry Avith whom we have to do 
is Edward the Black Prince. And as the most characteristic 
part of the knighthood of this most knightly of English princes, 
we have selected the battles of Crecy and of Poitiers. 

The Battle of Crecy. 

The English, who Avere drawn up in three divisions, and 
seated on the ground, on seeing their enemies ' advance, rose 
undauntedly up, and fell into their ranks. That of the prince^ 
Avas the first to do so, Avhose archers Avere formed in the manner 
of a portcullis or harroAA'-, and the men-at-arms in the rear. The 
earls of Xorthumberland and Arundel, Avho commanded the 
second division, had posted themselves in good order on his 
wing, to assist and succor the prince if necessary. 

* Edward the Black Prince ; son of Edward III. 
380 



EDWARD THE BLACK PRINCE. 381 

You must know that these kings, earls, barons, and lords of 
France did not advance in any regular order, but one after the 
other, or anyway most pleasing to themselves. As soon as the 
king of France came in sight of the English, his blood began to 
boil, and he cried out to his marshals, "Order the Genoese 
forward, and begin the battle, in the name of God and St. 
Denis." There were about fifteen thousand Genoese cross- 
bowmen, but they were quite fatigued, having marched on foot 
that day six leagues, completely armed and with their cross- 
bows. They told the constable they were not in a fit condition 
to do any great things that day in battle. The earl of Alen9on, 
hearing this, said, "This is what one gets by employing such 
scoundrels, who fall off when there is any need of them." 
During this time a heavy rain fell, accompanied by thunder 
and a very terrible eclipse of the sun ; and before this rain a 
great flight of crows hovered in the air over all those battalions, 
making a loud noise. Shortly afterwards it cleared up, and 
the sun shone very bright, but the Frenchmen had it in their 
faces, and the Englishmen in their backs. When the Genoese 
were somewhat in order, and approached the English, they set 
up a loud shout, in order to frighten them ; but they remained 
quite still, and did not seem to attend to it. Then they set up 
a second, shout, and advanced a little forward, but the English 
never moved. They hooted a third time, advancing with their 
crossbows presented, and began to shoot. The English archers 
then advanced one step forward, and shot their arrows with 
such force and quickness that it seemed as if it snowed. When 
the Genoese felt these arrows, which pierced their arms, heads, 
and through their armor, some of them cut the strings of their 
crossbows, others flung them on the ground, and all turned 
about and retreated quite discomfited. The French had a 
large body of men-at-arms on horseback, richly dressed, to 
support the Genoese. The king of France, seeing them thus 
fall back, cried out, " Kill me those scoundrels, for they stop up 
our road without any reason." You would then have seen the 
above-mentioned men-at-arms lay about them, killing all they 
could of these runaways. 

The English continued shooting as vigorously and quickly as 



382 THE KNIGHTS OF ENGLISH HISTORY. 

before ; some of their arrows fell amoug the horsemen who 
were sumptuously equij^ped, and, killing and wounding many, 
made them caper and fall among the Genoese, so that they 
were in such confusion that they could never rally again. The 
valiant king of Bohemia was slain there. He was called 
Charles of Luxembourg, for he was the son of the gallant king 
and emperor, Henry of Luxembourg. Having heard the order 
of the battle, he inquired where his son, the lord Charles, was. 
His attendants answered that they did not know, but believed 
he was fighting. The king said to them, " Gentlemen, you are 
all my people, my friends and brethren at arms this day ; there- 
fore, as I am blind, I request of you to lead me so far into the 
engagement that I may strike one stroke with my sword." The 
knights replied they would directly lead him forward ; and in 
order that they might not lose him in the crowd, they fastened 
all the reins of their horses together, and put the king at their 
head, that he might gratify his wish, and advanced towards the 
enemy. The lord Charles of Bohemia, who already signed his 
nahie as king of Germany, and bore the arms, had come in 
good order to the engagement ; but w^hen he perceived that it 
was likely to turn against the French, he departed, and I do 
not well know what road he took. The king, his father, had 
rode in among the enemy, and made good use of his sword, 
for he and his companions had fought most gallantly. They 
had advanced so far that they were all slain ; and on the 
morrow they were found on the ground, with their horses all 
tied together. 

The earl of Alenyon advanced in regular order upon the Eng- 
lish to fight w^ith them, as did the earl of Flanders in another part. 
These two lords, with their detachments, coasting, as it were, 
the archers, came to the prince's battalion, where they fought 
valiantly for a length of time. The king of France was eager 
to march to the place where he saw their banners displayed, 
but there was a hedge of archers before him. He had that day 
made a present of a handsome black horse to Sir John of 
Hainault, who had mounted on it a knight of his that bore his 
banner, which horse ran off with him and forced his way 
through the English army, and, when about to return, stumbled 



EDWARD THE BLACK PRINCE. 383 

and fell into a ditch and severely wounded hira. He would 
have been dead if his page had not followed him round the 
battalions, and found him unable to rise. He had not, however, 
any other hindrance than from his horse ; for the English did 
not quit the ranks that day to make prisoners. The page 
alighted, and raised him up ; but he did not return the way he 
came, as he would have found it difficult from the crowd. 

This battle, which was fought on a Saturday between la 
Broyes and Crecy, was very murderous and cruel ; and many 
gallant deeds of arms were performed that were never known. 
Towards evening, many knights and squires of the French 
had lost their masters. They wandered up and down the 
plain, attacking the English in small parties. They were soon 
destroyed, for the English had determined that day to give 
no quarter, or hear of ransom from any one. 

Early in the day, some French, Germans, and Savoyards had 
broken through the archers of the prince's battalion and had 
engaged with the men-at-arms; upon which the second 
battalion came to his aid, and it was time, for otherwise he 
would have been hard pressed. The first division, seeing the 
danger they were in, sent a knight in great haste to the king 
of England, who was posted upon an eminence near a wind- 
mill. On the knight's arrival, he said, " Sir, the earl of 
Warwick, the lord Stafford, the lord Reginald Cobham, and 
the others who are about your son, are vigorously attacked by 
the French ; and they entreat that you would come to their 
assistance with your battalion, for, if their numbers should 
increase, they fear he will have too much to do." The king 
replied, "Is my son dead, unhorsed, or so badly wounded that 
he cannot support himself?" "Nothing of the sort, thank 
God," rejoined the knight ; "but he is in so hot an engagement 
that he has great need of your help." The king answered, 
" Now, Sir Thomas, return back to those that sent you, and 
tell them from me, not to send again for me this day, or expect 
that I shall come, let what will happen, as long as my son has 
life; and say that I command them to let the boy win his 
spurs ; for I am determined, if it please God, that all the glory 
and honor of this day shall be given to him, and to those into 



384 THE KNIGHTS OF ENGLISH HISTOKY. 

whose care I have entrusted him." The knight returned to his 
lords, and related the king's answer, which mightily encouraged 
them, and made them repent they ever sent such a message. 

Late after vespers the king of France had not more about 
him than sixty men, every one included. Sir John of Hai- 
nault, who was of the number, had once remounted the king ; for 
his horse had been killed under him by an arrow. He said to 
the king, "Sir, retreat whilst you have an opportunity, and do 
not expose yourself so simply; if you have lost this battle, 
another time you will be the conqueror." After he had said 
this, he took the bridle of the king's horse and led him off by 
force, for he had before entreated him to retire. The king 
rode on until he came to the castle of la Broyes, where he 
found the gates shut, for it was very dark. The king ordered 
the governor of it to be summoned. He came upon the battle- 
ments, and asked who it was that called at such an hour. The 
king answered, " Open, open, governor ; it is the fortune of 
France." The governor, hearing the king's voice, immediately 
descended, opened the gate, and let down the bridge. The 
king and his company entered the castle ; but he had only with 
him five barons, Sir John of Hainault and four more. The 
king would not bury himself in such a place as that, but, hav-' 
ing taken some refreshments, set out again with his attendants 
about midnight, and rode on, under the direction of guides who 
were well acquainted with the country, until, about daybreak, 
he came to Amiens, where he halted. This Saturday the 
English never quitted their ranks in pursuit of any one, but 
remained on the field, guarding their position, and defending 
themselves against all who attacked them. The battle was 
ended at the hour of vespers. 

When on this Saturday night, the English heard no more 
hooting or shouting, nor any more crying out to particular 
lords or their banners, they looked upon the field as their own, 
and their enemies as beaten. They made great fires and 
lighted torches because of the obscurity of the night. King 
Edward then came down from his post, who all tliat day had 
not put on his helmet, and, with his whole battalion, advanced 
to the prince of Wales, whom he embraced in his arms and 



EDWARD THE BLACK PRINCE. 385 

kissed, and said, " Sweet son, God give you good perseverance; 
you are my son, for most loyally have you acquitted yourself 
this day: you are worthy to be a sovereign." The prince 
bowed down very low and humbled himself, giving all honor 
to the king, his father. The English during the night made 
frequent thanksgiving to the Lord for the happy issue of the 
day, and without rioting ; for the king had forbidden all riot 
or noise. 

At Crecy the Black Prince won his spurs, but the great 
achievement of his life was his victory at Poitiers, — a battle 
fought by him alone with his array, when his father, Edward 
III., was absent from France in England. At the peace of 
Bretagne, agreed upon after the battle, several provinces were 
ceded by France to England, and these Edward added to his 
dominions in Guienne, and formed for himself a separate king- 
dom, which he ruled until his death. He never came to the 
throne of England ; his son, Richard II., succeeded Edward III. 

The Battle of Poitiers. 

On Sunday morning, the king of France, w^io w^as very 
impatient to combat tlie English, ordered a solemn mass to be 
sung in his pavilion, and he and his four sons received the 
communion. Mass being over, there came to him many barons 
of France, as well as other great lords who held fiefs in the 
neighborhood, according to a summons they had received for 
a. council. They were a considerable time debating ; at last it 
was ordered that the whole army should advance into the 
plain, and that each lord should display liis banner, and push 
forward in the name of God and St. Denis. Upon this the 
trumpets of the army sounded, and every one got himself 
ready, mounted his horse, and made for that part of the plain 
where the kinsf's banner was flutterino; in the wind. There 
might be seen all the nobility of France, richly dressed out in 
l)rilliant armor, wath banners and pennons gallantly displayed ; 
for all the flower of the French nobility was there ; no knight 
nor squire, for fear of dishonor, dared to remain at home. By 
the advice of the constable and the marshals, the army was 



3b6 THE KNIGHTS OF ENGLISH HISTORY. 

divided into three battalions, each consisting of sixteen thou- 
sand men-at-arms, who had before shown themselves men of 
tried courage. The duke of Orleans commanded the first bat- 
talion, where there were thirty-six banners and twice as many- 
pennons. The second was under command of the duke of 
Normandy, and his two brothers, tlie lord Lewis and lord 
John. The king of France commanded the third. 

Whilst these battalions were forming, the king called to him 
tlie lord Eustace de Ribeaumont, the lord John de Landas, and 
the lord Guiscard de Beaujeu, and said to them, "Ride for- 
ward as near the English army as you can, and observe their 
countenance, taking notice of their numbers, and examine 
which will be the most advantageous manner to combat them, 
whether on horseback or on foot." The three knights left the 
king to obey his commands. The king was mounted on a 
white palfrey, and, riding to the head of his army, said aloud, 
"You men of Paris, Chartres, Rouen, and Orleans, have been 
used to threaten what you would do to the English if you 
could find them, and Avished much to meet them in arms ; now 
that Avish shall be granted. I will lead you to them, and let 
us see how you will revenge yourselves for all the mischief and 
damage they have done you. J>e assured we will not part 
without fighting." Those who heard him i-eplied, " Sir, 
through God's assistance we will most cheerfully meet them." 

At this instant the three knights returned, and pushing 
through the crowd, came to tlie king, who asked what news 
they liad brought. Sir Eustace de Ribeaumont, whom his 
companions had requested to be their s])okesman, answered, 
" Sir, we have observed accurately the English ; they may 
amount, according to our estimate, to about two thousand 
men-at-arms, four thousand archers, and fifteen hundred foot- 
men. They are in a very strong j^osition ; but we do not 
imagine they can make more than one battalion ; nevertheless, 
they have posted themselves with great judgment, have forti- 
fied all the road along the hedge side, and lined the hedges 
with part of their archers ; for, as that is the only road for an 
attack, one must pass through the midst of them. This lane 
has no other entry ; for it is so narrow, that scarcely can four 



EDWARD THE BLACK PRINCE. 387 

men ride abreast in it. At the end of this lane, amidst vines 
and thorns, where it is impossible to ride or march in any reg- 
ular order, are posted the men-at-arms on foot; and they have 
drawn up before them their archers in the manner of a harrow, 
so that it will be no easy matter to defeat them." The king 
asked in what manner they would advise him to attack them. 
"Sir," replied Sir Eustace, "on foot; except three hundred of 
the most expert, to break, if possible, this body of archers ; 
and then your battalions must advance quickly on foot, attack 
the men-at-arms hand to hand, and combat them valiantly. 
This is the best advice that I can give you, and if any one 
know a better, let him say it." The king replied, " Thus shall 
it be, then." And, in company with his tw^o marshals, he rode 
from battalion to battalion, and selected, in conformity to their 
opinions, three hundred knights and squires of the greatest 
repute in his army, each well armed, and mounted on the best 
of horses. Soon after, the battalion of the Germans was 
formed, who were to remain on horseback, to assist the mar- 
shals ; they were commanded by the earls of Salzburg, Neydo, 
and Nassau. King John was armed in royal armor, and nine- 
teen others like him. 

When the battalions of the king of France were drawn up, 
and each lord posted under his proper banner, and informed 
how they were to act, it was ordered that all those who were 
armed with lances should shorten them to the length of five 
feet, that they might be the more manageable, and that every 
one should take off his spurs. As the French were on the 
point of marching to their enemies, the cardinal of Perigord, 
who had left Poitiers that morning early, came full gallop to 
the king, making him a low reverence, and entreated him that 
he might be allowed to go to the prince of Wales, to endeavor 
to make peace between him and the king of France. The 
king answered, "It is very agreeable to us; but make haste 
back again." 

So then the cardinal set off, and went in all speed to the 
prince ; but though he spent all this Sunday in riding from 
one army to another, he could not make terms which were 
thought honorable alike by the king and by the prince of 



388 THE KNIGHTS OF ENGLISH HISTORY. 

Wales. That same day, the French kept in their quarters, 
where they lived at their ease, having plenty of provisions ; 
whilst the English, on the other hand, were but badly off, nor did 
they know whither to go for forage, as they were so straitly 
kept by the French they could not move without danger. 
This Sunday they made many mounds and ditches round 
where the archers were posted, the better to secure them. 

On Monday morning the prince and his army were soon in 
readiness, and as well arranged as on the former day. The 
French were also drawn out by sunrise. The cardinal, re- 
turning again that morning, imagined that by his exhortations 
he could pacify both parties; but the French told him to 
return when he pleased, and not attempt bringing them any 
more treaties or pacifications, else worse might betide him. 
When the cardinal saw that he labored in vain, he took leave 
of the king of France, and set out' toward the prince of 
Wales, to whom he said, " Fair son, exert yourself as much as 
possible, for there must be a battle ; I cannot by any means 
pacify the king of France." The prince replied, "that such 
were the intentions of him and his army; and God defend 
the right." The cardinal then took leave of him, and returned 
to Poitiers. 

The arrangement of the prince's army, in respect to the 
battalions, was exactly the same as what the three knights 
before named had related to the king of France, except that 
at this time he had ordered some valiant and intelligent 
knights to remain on horseback, similar to the battalion of the 
French marshals, and had also commanded three hundred 
men-at-arms, and as many archers on horseback, to post them- 
selves on the right, on a small hill, that was not too steep nor 
too high, and, by i)assing over its summit, to get round the 
wings of the duke of Normandy's battalions, who was in per- 
son at the foot of it. These were all the alterations the 
prince had made in his order of battle; he himself was Avitli 
the main body, in the midst of the vineyards, the whole com- 
pletely armed, with their horses near, if there should be any 
occasion for them. They had fortified and inclosed the 
weaker parts with their wagons and baggage. 



EDWARD THE BLACK PRINCE. 389 

And when the prince of Wales saw, from the departure of 
the cardinal without being able to obtain any honorable terms, 
that a battle was inevitable, and that the king of France held 
both him and his army in great contempt, he thus addressed 
himself to them : " Xow, my gallant fellows, what though we 
be a small body when compared to the army of our enemies ; 
do not let us be cast down on that account, for victory does not 
always follow numbers, but where the Almighty God pleases to 
bestow it. If, through good fortune, the day shall be ours, 
we will gain the greatest Honor and glory in this world ; if the 
contrary should happen, and we be slain, I have a father and 
beloved brethren alive, and you all have some relations or good 
friends, who will be sure to revenge our deaths. I therefore 
entreat of you to exert yourselves, and combat manfully ; for, 
if it please God and St. George, you shall see me this day act 
like a true knight." By such words and arguments as these 
the prince harangued his men, as did the marshals, by his 
orders, so that they were all in high spirits. Sir John Chandos 
placed himself near the prince, to guard and advise him; and 
never, during that day, would he, on any account, quit his 
post. 

The lord James Audley remained also a considerable time 
near him ; but, when he saw that they must certainly engage, 
he said to the prince : " Sir, I have ever served most loyally 
my lord your father, and yourself, and shall continue so to do 
as long as I have life. Dear sir, I must now acquaint you that 
formerly I made a vow, if ever I should be engaged in any 
battle where the king, your father, or any of his sons were, 
that I would be the foremost in the attack, and the best 
combatant on his side, or die in the attempt. I beg, therefore, 
most earnestly, as a reward for any services I may have done, 
that you would grant me permission honorably to quit you, 
that I may post myself in such wise to accomplish my vow." 
The prince granted this request, and, holding out his hand to 
him, said: " Sir James, God grant that this day you may shine 
in valor above all other knights." The knight then set off, 
and posted himself at the front of the battalion, with only four 
squires whom he had detained with him to guard his person. 



390 THE KNIGHTS OF ENGLISH HISTORY. 

The lord James was a prudent and valiant knight ; and by his 
advice the army had thus been drawn up in order of battle. 
The lord James began to advance, in order to fight with the 
battalion of the marshals. Sir Eustace d' Ambreticourt, being 
mounted, placed his lance in its rest, and, fixing his shield, 
struck spurs into his horse and galloped up to this battalion. 
A German knight, perceiving Sir Eustace quit his army, left 
his battalion that was under the command of earl John of 
Nassau, and made up to him. The shock of their meeting was 
so violent that they both fell to the ground. The German was 
wounded in the shoulder, so that he could not rise again so 
nimbly as Sir Eustace, who, when upon his legs, after he had 
taken breath, was hastening to the knight that lay on the 
ground ; but five German men-at-arms came upon him, struck 
him down, and made him prisoner. They led him to those 
that were attached to the earl of Nassau, who did not pay 
much attention to him, nor do I know if they made him swear 
himself their ])risoner; but they tied him to a car with some of 
their harness. 

The enoaoement now beoan on both sides, and the battalion 
of the marshals was advancing before those who were intended 
to break the battalion of the archers, and had entered the lane 
where the hedges on both sides were lined by the arcliers, who, 
as soon as they saw them fairly entered, began shooting with 
their bows in such an excellent manner from each side of the 
hedge, that the horses, smarting under the pain of the wounds 
made by tlieir bearded arrows, would not advance, but turned 
about, and, by their unruliness, threw their masters, who could 
not manage them ; nor could those that had fallen get up again 
for the confusion, so tliat this battalion of the marshals could 
never approach that of the prince. However, there were some 
knights and squires so well mounted, that by the strength of 
their horses they passed through and broke the hedge, but, in 
spite of their efforts, could not get up to the battalion of the 
prince. The lord James Audley, attended by his four squires, 
had placed himself, sword in hand, in front of this battalion 
much before the rest, and was performing w^onders. lie had 
advanced through his eagerness so far that he engaged the lord 



EDWARD THE BLACK PRINCE. 391 

Arnold d'Andreghen, marshal of France, under his banner 
when they fought a considerable time, and the lord Arnold 
was roughly enough treated. The battalion of the marshals 
was soon after put to the rout by the arrows of the archers and 
the assistance of the men-at-arms, who rushed among them as 
they were struck down and seized and slew them at their 
pleasure. The lord Arnold d'Andreghen w^as there made 
prisoner, but by others than the lord James Audley or his four 
squires, for that knight never stopped to make any one his 
prisoner that day, but was the whole time emi3loyed in fighting 
and following his enemies. In another part, the lord John 
Clermont fought under his banner as long as he was able, but 
being struck down, he could neither get up again nor procure 
his ransom ; he was killed on the spot. In a short time this 
battalion of the marshals was totally discomfited ; for they fell 
back so much on each other that the army could not advance, 
and those who were in tlie rear, not being able to get forward, 
fell back upon the battalion commanded by the duke of Nor- 
mandy, which was broad and thick in the front, but it was soon 
thin enough in the rear; for wlien they learnt that the marshals 
had been defeated, they mounted their horses and set off. At 
this time a body of English came down from the liill, and, pass- 
ing along the battalions on horseback, accompanied by a large 
body of archers, fell upon one of the wings of the duke of Nor- 
mandy's division. To say the truth, the English archers were 
of infinite service to their army, for they shot so tliickly and 
so well that the French did not know what way to turn them- 
selves to avoid their arrows. By this means they kept advanc- 
ing by little and little and gained ground. When the English 
men-at-arms perceived that the first battalion was beaten, and 
that the one under the duke of Normandy was in disorder and 
beginning to open, they hastened to mount their horses, which 
they had ready prepared close at hand. As soon as they were 
all mounted, they gave a shout of " St. George for Guienne ! " 
and Sir John Chandos said to the prince, " Sir, sir, now push 
forward, for the day is ours. God will this day put it in your 
hand. Let us make for our adversary, the king of France ; for 
where he is will lie the main stress of the business. I well 



392 THE KNIGHTS OF ENGLISH HISTORY. 

know that his valor will not let him fly ; and he will remain 
with us, if it please God and St. George ; but he must be well 
fought with, and you have before said that you would show 
yourself this day a good knight." The prince replied : " John, 
get forward ; you shall not see me turn my back this day, but 
I will always be among the foremost." He then said to Sir 
Walter Woodland, his banner-bearer, "Banner, advance, in the 
name of God and St. George." The knight obeyed the com- 
mands of the prince ; and the prince upon this charged the 
division of the duke of Athens, and very sharp the encounter 
was, so that many were beaten down. The French, who 
fought in large bodies, cried out, "Montjoye St. Dennis!" 
and the English answered them with " St. George for Guienne! " 
The prince next met the battalion of Germans under command 
of the earl of Salzburg, the earl of ]N'assau, and the earl of 
Neydo ; but they were soon overthrown and put to flight. The 
English archers shot so well that none dared to come within 
reach of their arrows, and they put to death many who could 
not ransom themselves. Then the above-named earls were 
slain there, as well as many other knights and squires attached 
to them. In the confusion. Sir Eustace d'Ambreticourt was 
rescued by his own men, who remounted him. He afterwards 
performed many gallant deeds of arms, and made good captures 
that day. 

When the battalion of the duke of Normandy saw the 
prince advancing so quick upon them, they bethought them- 
selves how to escape. The sons of the king, the duke of Nor- 
mandy, the earl of Poitiers, and the earl of Touraine, who 
were very young, too easily believed what those under whose 
management they were placed said to them. However, the 
lord Guiscard d'Angle and Sir John de Saintre, who were near 
the earl of Poitiers, would not fly, but rushed into the thickest 
of the combat. The three sons of the king, according to the 
advice given them, galloped away, with upwards of eighty 
lances who had never been near the enemy, and took the road 
to Chavigny. 

Now the king's battalion advanced in good order to meet 
the English; many hard blows were given with swords, battle- 



EDWAKD THE BLACK PRINCE. 393 

axes, and other warlike weapons. The king of France, wdth 
the lord Philip, his youngest son, attacked the division of the 
marshals, the earls of Warwick and Suffolk, and in this 
combat w^ere engaged many very noble lords on both sides. 

The lord James Audley, with the assistance of his four 
squires, was always engaged in the heat of the battle. He 
was severely wounded in the body, head, and face ; and, as 
long as his breath permitted him, he maintained the fight and 
advanced forward. He continued to do so until he was 
covered with blood. Then, toward the close of the engage- 
ment, his four squires, who were his body guard, took him, and 
led him out of the engagement, very weak and wounded, 
towards a hedge, that he might cool and take breath. They 
disarmed him as gently as they could, in order to examine his 
wounds, dress them, and sew up the most serious. 

It often happens that fortune in war and love turns out more 
favorable and wonderful than could have been hoped for or 
expected. To say the truth, this battle, which was fought 
near Poitiers, in the plains of Beau voir and Maupertuis, was 
very bloody and perilous. Many gallant deeds of arms were 
performed that w^ere never known, and the combatants on 
either side suffered much. King John himself did wonders. 
He was armed with a battle-axe, with which he fought and 
defended himself; and if a fourth of his people had behaved as 
well the day would have been his own. The earl of Tancar- 
^ille, in endeavoring to break through the crowd, was made 
prisoner close to him, as were also Sir James de Bourbon, earl 
of Ponthieu, and the lord John d'Artois, earl of Eu. The 
pursuit continued even to the gates of Poitiers, where there 
was much slaughter and overthrow of men and horses ; for the 
inhabitants of Poitiers had shut their gates and would suffer 
none to enter ; upon which account there was great butchery 
on the causeway before the gate, where such numbers were 
killed or wounded that several surrendered themselves the 
moment they spied an Englishman ; and there were many 
English archers who had four, five, or six prisoners. 

There was much pressing at this time through eagerness to 
take the king ; and those who were nearest to him and knew 



394 THE KNIGHTS OF ENGLISH HISTORY. 

him, cried out, " Surrender yourself, surrender yourself, or you 
are a dead man." In that part of the field was a young knight 
from St. Omer, who was engaged by a salary in the service of 
the king of England. His name was Denys de Morbeque, who 
for five years had attached himself to the English on account 
of having been banished in his younger days from France for a 
murder committed in an affray at St. Omer. It fortunately 
happened for this knight that he was at the time near to the 
king of France when he was so much pulled about. He by 
dint of force, for he was very strong and robust, pushed 
through the crowd, and said to the king in very good French, 
" Sire, sire, surrender yourself." The king, who found himself 
very disagreeably situated, turning to him, asked, " To whom 
shall I surrender myself ; to whom ? Where is my cousin, the 
prince of Wales? if I could see him I would speak to him." 
"Sire," replied Sir Denys, "he is not here; but surrender 
yourself to me and I will lead you to him." "Who are you?" 
said tlie king. " Sire, I am Denys de Morbeque, a knight from 
Artois, but I serve the king of England because I cannot 
belong to France, having forfeited all I possess there." The 
king then gave him his right-hand glove, and said, "I surrender 
myself to you." There was much crowding and pushing about, 
for every one was eager to cry out, "I have taken him." 
Neither the king nor his youngest son Philip were able to get 
forward, and free themselves from the throng. 

The prince of Wales, who was as courageous as a lion, took 
great delight that day to combat his enemies. Sir John 
Chandos, who was near his person and had never quitted it 
during the whole of the day, nor stopped to take any prisoners, 
said to him toward the end of the battle, " Sir, it will be 
proper for you to halt here and plant your banner on the top 
of this bush, which will serve to rally your forces that seem 
very much scattered; for I do not see any banners or pennons 
of the French, nor any considerable bodies able to rally 
against us ; and you must refresli yourself a little, as I perceive 
you are very much heated." Upon this, the banner of the 
prince was placed on a high bush ; the minstrels began to play, 
and trumpets and clarions to do their duty. The prince took 



EDWARD THE BLACK PRINCE. 395 

off his helmet, and the knights attendant on his person and 
belonging to his chamber were soon ready, and i^itched a small 
pavilion of crimson color, which the prince entered. Liquor 
was then brought to him and the other knights who were with 
him. They increased every moment; for they were returning 
from the pursuit, and stopped there, surrounded by their 
prisoners. 

As soon as the two marshals were come back, the prince 
asked them if they knew anything of the king of France. They 
replied, " No, sir, not for a certainty ; but we believe he must 
be either killed or taken prisoner, since he has never quitted 
his battalion." The prince then, addressing the earl of War- 
wick and lord Cobham, said, "I beg of you to mount your 
horses and ride over the field, so that on your return you may 
bring me some certain intelligence of him." The two barons, 
immediately mounting their horses, left the prince and made 
for a small hillock, that they might look about them. From 
their stand they perceived a crowd of men-at-arms on foot, who 
were advancing very slowly. The king of France was in the 
midst of them, and in great danger ; for the French and Gascons 
had taken him from Sir Denys de Morbeque and were disput- 
ing who should have him, the stoutest bawling out, "It is I who 
have got him." "No, no," replied the others, " we have him." 
The king to escape this peril, said, " Gentlemen, gentlemen, I 
pray you conduct me and my son in a courteous manner to my 
cousin the prince ; and do not make such a riot over my cap- 
ture, for I am so great a lord that I can make all sufficiently 
rich." These words, and others which fell from the king, ap- 
peased them a little, but the disputes were always beginning 
again, and they did not move a step without rioting. When the 
two barons saw this troop of people, they descended from the hil- 
lock, and, sticking spurs into their horses, made up to them. 
On their arrival, they asked what was the matter. They were 
answered that it was the king of France, who had been made 
prisoner, and that upwards of ten knights and squires chal- 
lenged him at the same time as belonging to each of them. 
The two barons then pushed through the crowd by main force 
and ordered all to draw aside. They commanded, in the name 



396 THE KNIGHTS OF ENGLISH HISTORY. 

of the prince and under pain of instant death, that every one 
should keep his distance, and not approach unless ordered or 
desired so to do. They all retreated behind the king; and the 
two barons, dismounting, advanced to the king with profound 
reverence, and conducted him in a peaceable manner to the 
prince of Wales. 

Soon after the earl of Warwick and the lord Reginald Cob- 
ham had left the piince, as has been above related, he inquired 
from those knights around him of lord James Audley, and 
asked if any one knew what was become of him. " Yes, sir," 
replied some of the company, " he is very badly wounded, and 
is lying in a litter hard by." " By my troth," replied the 
prince, "I am sore vexed that he is so wounded. See, I beg of 
you, if he be able to bear being carried hither ; otherwise I 
will come and visit him." Two knights directly left the 
prince, and, coming to lord James, told him how desirous the 
prince was of seeing him. "A thousand thanks to the prince," 
answered lord James, " for condescending to remember so poor 
a knight as myself." He then called eight of his servants and 
had himself borne in his litter to where the prince was. When 
he was come into his presence, the prince bent down over him 
and embraced him, saying, " My lord James, I am bound to 
honor you very much, for by your valor this day you have ac- 
quired glory and renown above us all, and your prowess has 
proved you the bravest knight." Lord James replied, "My 
lord, you have a right to say whatever you please, but I wish 
it were as you have said. If I have this day been forward to 
serve you it has been to accomplish a vow that I had made, 
and ought not to be so much thought of." " Sir James," 
answered the prince, " I and all the rest of us deem you the 
bravest knight on our side in this battle ; and to increase your 
renown and furnish you withal to pursue your career of 
glory in war, I retain you henceforward forever as my knight, 
with five hundred marcs of yearly revenue, which I will secure 
to you from my estates in England." " Sir," said lord James, 
"God make me deserving of the good fortune you bestow upon 
me." At these words he took leave of the prince, as he was 
very weak, and his servants carried him back to his tent. He 



EDWARD THE BLACK PRINCE. 397 

could not have been at a great distance when the earl of War- 
wick and lord Reginald Cobham entered the pavilion of the 
prince and presented the king of France to him. The prince 
made a very low obeisance to the king and gave him as much 
comfort as he was able, wliich he well knew how to administer. 
He ordered wine and spices to be brought, which he presented 
to the king himself, as a mark of great affection. 

Thus was this battle won, as you have heard related, in the 
plains of Maupertuis, two leagues from the city of Poitiers, on 
the 19th day of September, 1356. It commenced about nine 
o'clock and was ended by noon ; but the English were not all 
returned from the pursuit, and it was to recall his people that 
the prince had placed his banner upon a high bush. They did 
not return till late after vespers from pursuing the enemy. It 
was reported that all the flower of French knighthood was 
slain, and that, with the king and his son the lord Philip, 
seventeen earls, without counting barons, knights, or squires, 
were made prisoners, and from five to six thousand of all sorts 
left dead in the field. When they were all collected, they 
found they had twice as many prisoners as themselves. They 
therefore consulted, if, considering the risk they might run, it 
would not be more advisable to ransom them on the spot. 
This was done ; and the prisoners found the English and 
Gascons very civil ; for there were many set at liberty that day 
on their promise of coming to Bordeaux before Christmas to 
pay their ransom. 

When all were returned to their banners, they retired to 
their camp, which was adjoining to the field of battle. Some 
disarmed themselves and did the same to their prisoners, to 
whom they showed every kindness ; for whoever made any 
prisoners they were solely at his disposal to ransom or not, as 
he pleased. It may be easily suj^posed that all those who 
accompanied the prince were very rich in glory and wealth, as 
well by the ransoms of his prisoners as by the quantities of gold 
and silver plate, rich jewels, and trunks stuffed full of belts 
that were weighty from their gold and silver ornaments 
and furred mantles. They set no value on armor, tents, or 
other things; for the French had come there as magnificently 



398 THE KNIGHTS OF ENGLISH HISTORY. 

and richly dressed as if they had been sure of gaining the 
victory. 

When the lord James Audley was brought back to his tent 
after having most respectfully thanked the prince for his gift, 
he did not remain long before he sent for his brother, Sir Peter 
Audley, and some more. They were all of his relations. He 
then sent for his four squires that had attended upon him that 
day, and, addressing himself to the knights, said : " Gentlemen, 
it has pleased my lord the prince to give me five hundred 
marcs as a yearly inheritance, for which gift I have done him 
very trifling bodily service. You see here these four squires 
who have' always served me most loyally, and especially in this 
day's engagement. What glory I may have gained has been 
through their means and by their valor, on which account I 
wish to reward them. I therefore give and resign into their 
hands the gift of five hundred marcs which my lord the prince 
has been pleased to bestow on me, in the same form and man- 
ner that it has been presented to me. I disinherit myself of it 
and give it to them simply and without a possibility of revok- 
ing it." The knights looked on each other, and said, "It is 
becoming the noble mind of lord James to make such a gift ; " 
and then unanimously added : " May the Lord God remember 
you for it ! We will bear witness of this gift to them where- 
soever and whensoever they may call upon us." They then 
took leave of him, when some went to the prince of Wales, 
who that night was to give a supper to the king of France from 
his own provisions ; for the French had brought vast quantities 
with them, which were now fallen into the hands of the Eng- 
lisli, many of whom had not tasted bread for the last three 
days. 

When evening was come, the prince of Wales gave a supper 
in his pavilion to the king of France and to the greater part of 
the princes and barons who were prisoners. The prince 
seated the king of France and his son the lord Philip at an 
elevated and well-covered table ; and with them were some 
other French lords of high rank: The other knights and 
squires Avere placed at different tables. The prince himself 
served the king's table, as well as the others, with every mark 



EDWARD THE BLACK PRINCE. 399 

of humility, and would not sit down at it, in spite of all his 
entreaties for him to do so, saying that he was not worthy of 
such, an honor, nor did it appertain to him to seat himself at 
the t: h\e of so great a king or of so valiant a man as he had 
shown i imself by his actions that day. He added also, with a 
noble air' "Dear sir, do not make a poor meal because the 
Almighty God has not gratified your wishes in the event of this 
day ; for be ."ssured that my lord and father will show you 
every honor an 1 friendship in his power, and will arrange for 
your ransom so reasonably that you will henceforward always re- 
main friends. In my opinion, you have cause to be glad that the 
success of this battle did not turn out as you desired ; for you 
have this day acquired such high renown for prowess that 
you have surpassed all the best knights on your side. I do 
not, dear sir, say this to flatter you, for all those of our side 
who have seen and observed the actions of each party have 
unanimously allowed this to be your due, and decree you the 
prize and garland for it." A^^'^e end of this speech there 
were murmurs of praise heard- irom every one ; and the 
French said the prince had spoken truly and nobly, and that 
he w^ould be one of the most gallant princes in Christendom if 
God should grant him life to pursue his career of glory. 



INDEX. 



Addaiic, the, 300. 

.Eneas, 28. 

Agrivain, 70, 86, 174. 

Albion, 27. 

Alen9on, Due d', 381. 

Alexander, 24. 

Allemannns, 27. 

AlyduKe, 81. 

Ambrosiiis, 41. 

Argius, king of Ireland, 110. 

Armor, 18, 

Armorica, 18. 

Arthur, 21, 24 ; historical evidences of, 
38; story of, 42; slays the giant of 
St. Michael's Mount, 58 ; obtains Ex- 
calibur, 60, 144, 147, 150, 175; re- 
ceived by the three queens, 187 ; his 
epitaph, 188, 200 ; seeks Owain, 215, 
223, 280, 293, 298. 

"As You Like It," quoted, 253. 

Ascanius, 28. 

Audley, Lord James, 389, 393, 396. 

Audret, 113. 

Avaon, quoted, 199. 

Badger in the Bag, 256. 
Bagdemagus, 78, 153. 
Baldwin de Carreo, 330. 
Ban, king, 43. 
Bedivere, 185, 191. 
Bedouins, 225. 
Bed\vyr, 294. 
Belenus, 34. 

Bendigeid, Vran, 259, 268. 
Bishop of Hereford and his entertain- 
ment by Robin Hood, 350. 
Bladud, 31. 



Blaanor, 110. 

Bohort, 43, 75, 102; in quest of the 
Sangreal, 160 ; fights with his brother 
Lionel, 163, 167 ; at Joyeuse Garde, 
177 ; seeks Sir Launcelot, 189. 

Bohemia, the blind king of, at Poitiers, 
385. 

Boiardo, quoted, 113. 

Boy and the Mantle, the, 65. 

Brademagus, 93. 

Brandeles, 81, 86. 

Branwen, 259. 

Brengwain, 111, 127. 

Brenuus, 34. 

Breuse sans Pitie', 123, 128. 

Brice, Bishop, 43. 

Britons, 195. 

Britto, 27. 

Brune, Robert de, 23. 

Brutus, 28. 

Bryan, 81. 

Cador, 64. 

Caerleon, note on, 55. 
Calidore, 137. 
Camelot, note on, 55. 
Caradoc, 63, 264, 267. 
Carlisle, 41 ; note on, 55. 
Carracois, 333. 
Cassibellaunus, 35. 
Charlemagne, 21, 24. 
Chandos, Sir John, 391, 394. 
Chaucer, quoted, 72. 
Chevy Chase, 362. 
Chivalry, 14. 
Clerks, 17. 
Clifton, 355. 

401 



402 



INDEX. 



Colgrevance, 163. 
Constans, 41. 
Cordelia, 32, 283. 
Cordivi, 335. 
Crecy, 380. 

Crusade, the Third, 319. 
Curtal Friar, 347. 
Cymbeline, 36. 
Cyprus, 320. 

Daguenet, 126. 

David, 24. 

Denys de Morbeque, 394. 

Diana, 29. 

Dillus Varwawc, 290, 296. 

Douglas, Earl, 362, 370; death of, 

378. 
Drayton, quoted, 44, 343. 
Dremhidydd, quoted, 199. 

Edeyrn, 230. 

Edward the Black Prince, 380. 

Elaine, 100, 150. 

Eliaures, 64. 

Elidure, 34. 

Elphin, 308. 

Enid and Geraint, 231,236; receives 
the stag's head, 237 ; rides with Ge- 
raint, 243 ; her character, 257. 

Erbin, 242. 

Etlym Gleddyv Coch, 303. 

Eustace dc Ribeaumont, 386. 

Evnissyeu, 259. 

Excalibur, 42. 

Ferrex, 53. 
Flollo, 54. 

France, King of: at Crecy, 331; cap- 
tured at Poitiers, 393. 
Francus, 27. 

Frederick Barbarossa, 317. 
Freeman, 17. 
Friar Tuck, 346. 
Froissart, 376. 

Gaheris, 79, 125, 175. 

Cabaret, 70. 

Galahad, 150, 167; his death, 169. 

Galleron, 132. 



Galynde, 81. 

Garett, 70, 175. 

Gavsilet, quoted, 199. 

Cast Rhymi, 290, 296. 

Gawain, 47, 52 ; his parentage, 70 ; 
marriage, 70, 82, 91, 102, 125, 134, 
136, 149, 153, 174; his battle with 
Launcelot, 180; his adventure Avith 
the Lady of the Fountain, 214; his 
death, lb3. 

Gawl, son of Clud, 255, 277. 

Genoese archers, 381. 

Geoifrey de Vinsaut, quoted, 324. 

Geotfrty of Monmouth, 21. 

George a Green, 234. 

Geraint, 222, and Enid, 231, 236, 243. 

Glass windows, 242. 

Godfrey of Boulogne, 24. 

Goneril, 31. 

Gouvcrnail, 106, 121. 

Gray, quoted, 196, 198. 

Guenever, 49, 86, 141, 174 ; condemned 
to death, 176, 200; goes to see the 
hunt, 223. 

Guest, Lady Charlotte, 26. 

Gurhyr Gwalstat, 281, 293. 

Guy, king of Jerusalem, 324. 

Gwernach the Giant, 290, 291. 

Gwyduo Gwanhir, 305. 

Ham's Port, note on, 55. 

Hector, 24. 

Hector de Marys, 81, 82, 97, 102, 120; 

at Joyeuse Garde, 177; seeksLaunce- 

lot, 189, 101. 
Helen, 74. 

Henry, Count of Champagne, 325. 
Heveydd, 254. 
Heveyd Hir, 260, 
Holy Cross, the, 323. 
Holy Grail, the, 47, 135 (see Sangreal). 
Holy Land, the, 319. 
Hospitallers, 324 ; Master of the, 329, 

330. 

Igerne, 41- 

Ironside, 86. 

Isoude the Fair, 108, 127. 

Isoude of the White Hands. 134. 



INDEX. 



403 



James d'Avennes, 530. 

Joppa, 335. 

Joseph of Arimathea, 148, 150, 169. 

Joshua, 24. 

Judas Maccabgeus, 24. 

Julius Caesar, 24. 

Kadyriaeth, 233, 239. 

Katherine, Queen, 353. 

Kay, 43 ; note on, 54, 81, 86, 94, 110, 

141, 146, 200, 282, 292, 294. 
Kieva, 272. 
Kilwich, 279. 
King of N"orth Wales, 78. 
Kirkley Hall, 360. 

Knight Errant, 14 ; education of, 15. 
Knight of the Sparrowhawk, 228. 
Kyurn, 205, 215. 

La Joyeuse Garde, 105, 176. 

Lady of the Lake, 46, 60. 

Ladynas of the Forest Savage, 86. 

Laodegan, 49. 

Launcelot, 52 ; parentage, 74 ; adven- 
ture of the cart, 86 ; and the Lady of 
Shalott, 95 ; saves Queen Guene- 
ver, 101, 125 ; in quest of the San- 
greal, 154, 165; and Guenever, 174; 
battle with Gawain, 180; seeks Queen 
Guenever, 189; death of, 191. 

Lear, 31, 283. 

Lionel, 75, 81, 102, 161 ; fights with his 
brother Bohort, 163 ; at La Joyeuse 
Garde, 177. 

Little John, 343, 345, 360; and the 
Bishop of Hereford, 387. 

Lleuleaug, quoted, 199. 

Lloyd, 277. 

Llywarch, quoted, 199. 

Lucau, 183. 

Lucius Tiberius, 58, 

Lud, 35. 

Luned, 211, 220. 

Mabon, 294. 

Madoc, 223. 

Mador, 102. 

Mallory, Sir Thomas, quoted, 192. 

Mana^yddan, 259, 266, 268. 



March and Dunbar, Earl of, 370. 

Mark, King of Cornwall, 107, 118. 

Matholk, 260. 

Meleagans, 87. 

Meliadus, 106. 

Menelones, 335. 

Meneu, 284. 

Merlin, 41 ; story of, 44, 49, 60. 

Mestocus, 323. 

Milton, quoted, 27, 30. 

Modred, 39, 182 ; death of, 30. 

Moines, 41. 

Molmutius, 34. 

Montgomery, Sir Hugh, 368. 

Moraunt, 107, 126. 

Moray, Earl of, 370. 

Much the Miller's Son, 343, 356. 

Neptune, 27. 
Nissiyen, 259. 
Nottinghamshire, 354. 

Olwen, 279. 

Otterbourne, 370 ; the battle of, 375. 

Owaiu and Perceval, 140, 143, 200, 206 ; 

and the lion, 219. 
Owen, quoted, 40. 
Ozanna le Cure Hardy, 86. 

Palamede?, 168, 112, 124, 131, 177. 

Pecheur, King, 145, 149. 

Pelenore, 140. 

Pelleas. 86. 

Peudragon, 45. 

Perceval, youth of, 139; in quest of the 

Sangreal, 154, 157, 167; death of, 170 

(see Peredur). 
Percy, Earl, 362, 370. 
Percy's Reliques, quoted, 69, 362, 370. 
Peredur, 298 (see Perceval). 
Perigord, Cardinal, 387. 
Perilous Seat, 126. 
Perseant of Inde, 86. 
Phelot, 83. 
Pheredur, 119. 
Philip Augustus, 319, 323. 
Porrex, 33. 
Pryderi, 266, 268. 
Pwyll, 252, 268. 



404 



INDEX. 



Queen Morgane le Fay, 77. 
Queen of the Isles, 77. 
Queen of Eastland, 77. 
Queen of Noith Wales, 77. 

Hegan, 32. 

Reginald Cobhara, 383, 397. 

Rhiannon, 254, 268. 

Rhun, 311. 

Richard of Devizes, quoted, 324. 

Richard I. of England, 319; at Cyprus, 

320 ; at the siege of Acre, 322 ; in 

battle with the Saracens, 324, 330; 

attacked by Saracens, 336. 
Ripon, quoted, 343. 
Robin Hood, 343, 350 ; and the beggar, 

356 ; and King Richard, 358 ; death 

of, 360. 
Round Table, 126. 

Sagramore le Desirus, 82, 86. 
Saffire, 177. 
Saladin, 335, 342. 
Sangreal, 145, 148, 155, 168. 
Scarlock, 343. 

Scott, Sir Walter, quoted. iiO 
Shalott, Lady of, 96. 
Dote on, 55. 



Sherwood Forest, 343. 

Silk in the Middle Ages, 210. 

Southey, quoted, 278. 

Spenser, quoted, 30, 37, 48, 137, 138. 

Stukely, quoted, 347. 

Stukely, William, 346. 

Taliesin, 197; quoted, 213, 216, 308; 

his poems, 309, 319, 314. 
Templars, 324. 
Tennyson, quoted, 40, 44, 49, 98, 139, 

148' (Sir Galahad), 171, 182. 

Uther, 41, 45. 
Uwaine, 82, 151. 

Vivien, 46, 74, 118. 
Vortigerne, 41, 45. 

Welsh, bards, 197. 



people, 195. 

Wharton, quoted, 39. 
Witherington, 365, 368. 



Ynywl, Earl, 231. 
Yspadaden Penkawr, 280. 



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